


The Basics of Demonology

by LeviathanDee



Category: Doom (Video Games)
Genre: Angels, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Demonic Possession, Demons, Doom Eternal, Doom Eternal Spoilers, Earth, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hell, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Mars, Memory Loss, POV Female Character, Romance, Science, Science Experiments, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Strong Female Characters, Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 44,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24429154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeviathanDee/pseuds/LeviathanDee
Summary: A young UAC scientist gets swept up in the hellish forefront of the apocalypse, unknowingly unearthing her past, alongside the prophesied Slayer's true self.(Knowledge of DOOM 2016 and DOOM Eternal recommended).
Relationships: Doom Slayer | Doomguy/Reader
Comments: 45
Kudos: 214





	1. Prelude

Your heart beat like a thousand drums. You had to get to the tram. No matter how battered or bruised you became, you had to get to him. It was a matter of life and death.

Demons poured through every crevice of the UAC Argent facility like an untamed flood. From Imps, to Hell Knights, to the very colleagues you had cheap coffee with this morning. How did this happen? Why? Did the fire we played with finally burn us? Armed with but a flimsy pistol, your frail and tired form pushed on. Door after door, demon after demon, you darted towards your goal.

A metallic, cold reverberation of a voice rang in through the intercom, "Y/N, through that lab, the hallway leads to the tram you're looking for. There's an abundance of demons inside, I suggest the vents to the left would be a better option." Hayden. Calculating bastard. You had a fondness for the man's intellect, but never his personality. Even as he instructed you to the tram, his voice echoed with no worry for your wellbeing. No emotion, simply purpose. Even the intonation within his voice was strange to the point of wondering if the brain inside that robotic frame was ever actually a man.

You never could imagine him as a normal human. Commemorative photos of his past life indicate a short, bleach blond, stubby person. Somewhat younger than his age in appearance. Strange how life can take a turn and change you, all because of a fatal disease. From human, to cyborg. The only organic parts in his synthetic 9ft frame were the frontal and temporal lobes. The mind; unaltered by cancerous growths. Some would say that was the only part that mattered. Your body was a vessel for the mind. Samuel simply took that to a completely new level.

Putting those thoughts aside, you pushed towards the vents, gunning down anyone or anything that stood, crawled, or flew in your way. The vents were luckily large enough to fit a human. With a bit of force, you kicked the grate in, certainly alerting anything that moved within a fifty metre radius.

_ Shit. I need to move. _

With one swift movement, your body slithered inside the vents. Becoming painfully aware of your wounds, you began to grunt. The wound on the abdomen was the worst. Caused by your fellow turned colleague, the UAC marine was merciless. You’re surprised that you even survived the gunshot to such a vital area. The force of the shot eviscerated your turtleneck into a meer rag.

You tried to ignore the gnawing pain. Moving towards the other side of the vent, scarlet liquid smeared all over the interior of the metallic space, leading a candy trail of blood for the demons.

God, you were so tired. All this death, this argent business, the sneaking around behind Olivia's back. It all seemed so wrong. And the unearthing of a mysterious sarcophagus that had somehow defied all laws of physics and biology. A man, scarred from countless battles, deified by some ancient race of warriors? Feared by hell itself, enough to trap him in a tomb? How did any of this make sense? It was a fever dream, it had to be. Nothing prepared your mind for the horrors you were seeing.

A light at the end of the tunnel, the end of the vent. Your eyes adjusted to the bright lights and carefully darted from corner to corner of the tram station from behind the grate, making sure there were no nasty surprises lurking in the red emergency lighting. Once sure, you shifted your legs forward, and whacked the grate with full force, shooting a jolt of pain all the way up your thigh, where three bullets had penetrated the muscle.

"Hrghh-fuck..." You grasped the wound in the efforts of numbing the pain, but to no avail.

"You have to keep moving, there's no time. We will patch you up later. Get to the tram or we'll lose both Mars AND Earth." The intercom crackled and fizzed. Samuel's voice somehow motivated you, no matter how cold it was.

Picking yourself up, you dragged your limp tired limbs towards the vehicle. A broken light flickered at the arrival of life onto the tram, and Vega's comforting voice began the initiation protocol. The cabin sounded like an exhausted, grumpy old man. It sputtered electricity, zapping the rails angrily. With effortless success, Vega pushed the tram towards its destination.

Sitting down, your traumatised mind once again trailed to the man within the stone prison. How long has he been there exactly? The stone tablets spoke of alternate worlds and dimensions, giving clues to his age. But this would mean... Eons. Impossible. Your scientist brain could not make sense of it.

Hayden's voice once again fizzed through.

"Once you're at the station, the sarcophagus should be in sector two. The first door in the hallway. I'll give you access."

Great, you’re close. One step closer to leaving the planet for good. Alive. Hopefully.

"The Station indicates no demonic threats are within the facility. You can safely move through to your objective Dr. Y/N." Vega chimed in, if only to ease the worry that was building up in your stomach like a raging volcano ready to erupt.

As the tram left the enclosure, a vast nothingness of burnt vermillion spread across before your eyes. Mars was hauntingly beautiful. Like a ghost; ever mysterious, and ever... dead. It was strange how you were on a planet 175 million kilometres away from home, more alone than ever before. Surrounded by husks of your dead or demon-turned friends, you’ve seen horrors beyond your comprehension. People were turned inside out. Guts being devoured and strung up like Christmas decorations in some strange ritualistic behaviour.

You had no control over your emotions. Finally bursting into a breakdown at the realisation of your predicament and certain demise, your eyes streamed rivers of tears.

"Don't be so pathetic. I'll resolve the situation, and we'll get out of here alive." Hayden shoved an unsympathetic comment through your earpiece. You didn’t realise that this was his sorry attempt at comforting you. 

Your voice, indeed pathetic in your attempts at coherent speech in the middle of a breakdown, crackled in, full of rage.

"Ho-how dare you? I'm out here, risking my ass, whilst you're in your office, brooding over how 'great' you are. Every. Damn. Time. I don’t need your comments. Just leave me be. I’ve seen everyone I care about die. Do you know how that feels? Don’t think you do, heh, there’s no one you care about other than yourself."

Silence. Only a slight, metallic, heavy sigh. And then silence.

“After all, I’m expendable. A simple UAC scientist. Nothing but a pawn in your big game. Whatever that big game is. Look what your inaction has caused. Thousands, dead. I don’t care if this was for the supposed greater good, asshole. This was never worth it.” With a pause to breathe, your chapped lips cracked under the pressure of a small sob. You wiped away your tears. Placing your heavy head in your palms, you hummed a small sigh.

“I’ll follow through with your plan, but then I’m leaving this fucking planet. Back home.”

The awkward quite continued. Radio silence on both ends.

Your glassy eyes trailed over the horizon. The orange dust storm wizzed, rocking the tram side to side lulling you into a false sense of security and numbing the nagging pain in your wounds. You shut your eyes. A small nap is all you needed.

Approximately 30 minutes later, the tram came to a screeching halt within a large station. The artifact sector. Legs made of jelly, you grabbed onto a metallic frame and pulled yourself up. Vega reassured you multiple times over that there was no demonic presence here. Yet. So you kept your guard up, pistol in hand.

"I'm here Sam." You looked inside of the retinal scanner, pressing your head closer. A bright light temporarily blinding your right eye.

"ACCESS DENIED." A loud female voice nearly ruptured your ear drums as you tried to enter the doors.

"Sam? Hayden? Err... Vega, help please?"

Vega answered, "One moment. Granted".

No wonder. Hayden was 'butthurt', for the lack of a better word. Immature behaviour. But unsurprising. For an almost ancient man, over a hundred and thirty years of age, he always acted like a bratty teen. With his injured pride, he won’t answer until it is absolutely necessary.

As the door slid open, you were greeted by the view of a titanic set of armour. Intimidating to say the least, as it towered over your small frame. The suit came to around 7ft5, and the pure thickness of the protective layer could double or even triple an average person's size. It was a desaturated green all over, and had tiny red lights scattered on the suit. How one person can control that thing was a mystery to you, including the science team. They were unable to start it up, and came to a conclusion that it only reacts to voice control, or the presence of the Slayer himself.

You suddenly remembered your real goal. Your small hand reached down into your black suit jacket pocket, grasping a syringe filled with blue liquid. Fear welled up in your stomach, in anticipation of how this God-like figure would react to a lousy stimulant.

"Just a little... pick me up." You inched towards the naked figure laying on the slab of intricately carved stone, covered in symbols you had encountered before on prophecy monoliths, recovered from hell itself. However, you were mesmerized by the body that lay within, more than the coffin that encased it.

He was a very muscularly built man, somewhere around 6ft5, dirty blond scruffy hair, and absolutely covered in scars. His palms had fresh burn scars of demonic sigils, and slashes, burns, and bullet wound marks of all kinds littered on his figure. Your eyes began darting up and down the body, admiring the features. Freckle spots on his shoulders, the veins on the arms, and the dark blond hair that lightly speckled his chest, and the fluffy lashes that anyone would be jealous of.

The figure's face was peaceful, yet adopted something harsh. Perhaps it was the hawk-like slope of the nose, or the angled eyebrows. Enveloped in battle marks, with the largest one spreading from his upper right eyebrow to his lower cheek, he had a roguish handsomeness about him.

Catching yourself staring and lingering, your ears turned a crimson red, knowing full well Hayden was watching you stare.

_ He won’t let me live this down. _

Without a second thought, you jabbed the stimulant injector full force into the side of his neck, letting the hiss of mechanisms work their magic on the unsuspecting patient.

"Enjoying the spectacle? Hmm? You should leave, he may awaken any second now." Surprisingly, Hayden announced his presence. His ego must’ve recovered from that blow, and tried to get back at you with obvious comments. But he was right, depending on the body's metabolic rate, the stimulant can work within seconds.

Yet something made you hesitate, made you linger a little longer. His stark nakedness didn't bother you, it was the scars. How many has he fought? How can anyone survive these demons? Countless good soldiers, friends, elite guards. All dead or turned by the argent wave. Yet this man, the prophesied saviour of life and destroyer of hell, has survived. The… Slayer.

His neck muscles and eyebrows began to spasm, shaking you awake out of your thoughts. Contorting in wrinkles of pain and discomfort, the tell-tale sign that the stimulant was working.

You cursed under your breath, and decided to leave your pistol beside the tomb.

"You'll need it more than me, buddy."

Without a second thought, your legs carried you back to the tram as quickly as they would take you. You crashed through doors, and felt demonic nails drag on your ankles. You took too long. They were waking up. Faces you recognised were growling and sputtering in a demonic tongue. This eager horde was crawling towards you, yet their speed was nowhere near as quick as yours. As you pushed and dodged the drunken zombie army, you reached the tram.

"Vega, I'm ready, take me back. Off of this station. Just, off this planet. Please." Your plea was heard by more than just Vega, as Hayden bumped in with a comment of thanks.

"Doctor. Thank you. The last undamaged aircraft is in sector 6, you'll find it along the biochem labs. Be careful."

'END OF COMMUNICATIONS' flashed up on your watch, and a faint static crackled in to indicate the lack of signal incoming to the frequency.

You slid down, exhausted, grabbing your bleeding abdomen. With that faint, slim chance of survival, your shoulders felt lighter. The task is done, and you’ve done your part. Whatever happens next, is up to Him.

_ Breathe. _

_ You'll make it. _

_ You always make it. _

_ Just hope to whoever is above that… He makes it. _


	2. Apocalypticism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tumultuous end is brewing on Earth. Overwhelmed by responsibility of leadership, the scientist encounters the man she awakened eight months ago.

For the past eight months the Slayer was tormented, washed over in waves of grief. The view of a devastated Earth was a grim reminder that he had failed to save them. Few once densely populated spots were now stricken with a demonic plague; water turning to lava, piles of corpses becoming gore nests for the billions turned centuries prior. Jaws of an otherworldly origin swallowed up this pitiful chunk of civilisation without mercy. The underworld had come to smite a billion souls for the sins they had committed, barrelling down upon them through relentless invasions. With every successful hundred evacuated, thousands more died.

It was a mess.

And the only person that can deal with this mess seems to be stuck in his fortress, digesting the information Vega relays every few hours of the dire situation back on Earth.

"67% of the Earth's population is deceased. The remaining survivors are at ARC facilities, or UAC cryogenic facilities."

Many viewed The Slayer as uncaring, callous, and calculating. Brutal even. His rampage through the doom horde showed a violent and psychopathic side. Many feared him, for his motivations were unknown. He was simply a symbol of pure unbridled rage. And that terrified the surviving public. However, beneath that tough and cold exterior was a person. No symbol. But a human with thoughts and emotions. His motivations came from decades of watching the innocent suffer.

Seeing Earth swallowed up by torrents of demons simply motivated him more.

"Flynn, I have found Dr. Hayden's whereabouts. He will help us discover the remaining Hell Priest, Deag Grav, and his location. I will activate the portal now."

Vega's resonating voice echoed within the ship's halls.

A simple, tiny huff escaped the blond man's lips.

So he has to go get Hayden now, huh? Great.

Armed and ready, wearing his altered praetor suit, and the double barrel shotgun in hand, he took a stride towards the portal.

…

You could not believe that this is happening again. The place which is supposed to be safe, with Hayden in charge, is now overrun by savage demons. You're beginning to see a pattern.

_ At least the surrounding sector is safe. _

With countless problems arising, every single one of the ARC employees and volunteers ran from corner to corner like headless chickens. And since Hayden is a non-functioning hunk of metal now, you need to lead this mindless crowd.

You never anticipated the second-in-command position to come to fruition, since Samuel Hayden was about as stubborn as a weed. Yet here you were, ordering people around, carrying out tasks, making sure the operation was in check.

Looking over to the torso of your leader, you realised that he kept you around for exactly this reason. You were his protegè. He even taught you some of the schematics on his structure, just in case his survival was at risk.

Time though? That's what you don't have. And resources. Rebuilding Sam will come later.

_ Sorry Sammy. I’m failing you. _

Your mind once again trailed.

Mars was horrible, a true lucid terror. But this? This is something worse. Watching Earth burn alive in such a short time made every cell in your body want to implode. When Mars was invaded, you had a home to return to. Now however, there was no home.

With the demonic army terraforming the atmosphere, it was becoming less and less livable for anything native to the planet. Did waking the Slayer really help? It doesn't seem like it.

"Dr. Y/N! We have a friendly coming to the facility. They're killing demons!" A tiny ginger volunteer ,a girl of no more than seventeen with puppy-like eyes, eagerly stared up at you.

"I-who? The demon horde is overwhelming outside. No one can survive that. Besides, the tentacles are trapping us all in here. They'd have to somehow destroy them in order to-"

An unholy sound of flesh tearing, and gore spilling, invaded your ears. It was a noise so indescribably disgusting, it made your stomach churn.

"What the hell was that?" Your mouth agape in both horror and disgust, you ran towards the front window overlooking the entrance to the building. Everyone else did the exact same thing. With your face pressed against the window, the cold, condensation dripped down your cheek.

Something dropped from the cannon station that was now pointing at the HQ entrance, and a strange electric spasm moved up your spine in anticipation. It was some guy?

A tiny green speck moved across the battlefield, swiftly ripping anything in his way. The demons stood no chance.

It was as if he memorised this tango for a millenia. A man of pure skill.

You watched intently as his movements paralized the crowd into astonishment.

His right arm hooked to the imp's jaw, followed by an explosion of blood. Darting towards an agile whiplash, the man grabbed it's two horns and thrust it in a downward motion towards his left knee. More bloodshed. UAC standard issue plasma rifle bullets shot in a hundred different directions, causing a carcass to implode in a whirlpool of guts from the sheer heat it was pumped with. The shrieks of the demons were agonizing. It gave you the impression that these demons were scared.

This dance continued for what seemed like mere seconds.

His suit, the shotgun that flung him towards his victims, and the strange way the demons ran away from this destruction machine explained everything to you. You knew exactly who this man was.

"My God. Elena will freak out. He's here. The Slayer is here!" A balding man exclaimed his excitement to the crowd. Cheering, the group seemed happier than they have been in months. Watching him disperse the hordes of doom was enough to lift everyones' spirits.

You on the other hand were not so sure. Though you are thankful that he was fighting them off, you didn't know his motivations. That day where you injected the stimulant into the slumbering man, Samuel sounded desperate for you to evacuate immediately. Is he truly this dangerous? And what would he need from this facility? The Crucible? Or Hayden himself?

None of this sat right with you.

…

"Shotgun shells, fourteen. Ice bomb, ready. This could get ugly." Grumbling to himself, The Slayer's booming voice reverberated within his helmet. With careful yet quick movements, he took large strides over the countless gibs of both humans and demons.

He scanned the perimeter, two hazel eyes attentively looking over for an ambush.

"It's too quiet. Vega, help me out buddy, any lifeforms?"

"Negative. The floor above however contains an Arachnotron, a Cyber Mancubus, and twelve Imps. I suggest caution. Patching you up is not my sole function, you know."

The Slayer grinned at Vega’s snarky response. "Finally, some action."

Almost instinctively, he looked for a weak spot in the ceiling. With the whole place falling apart as it is, taking advantage of the situation may be all that's left. A deep crack within the surface, almost like a lightning bolt in shape, had introduced itself to the man. With great purpose and excitement, his shotgun veered towards the damaged infrastructure.

They never saw it coming. Their mangled bodies fell almost comically from the second floor, catching them by surprise. As the ceiling collapsed, it took the demon hunter only milliseconds to dodge the rubble.

Imps were scattered across the battlefield, shocked and petrified by what stood before them. An unbeatable force of hell's destruction. His frags dispatched the vast majority in moments.

The Mancubus had no chance, as a gargantuan mass of cement had floored his tiny head, creating a pool of green and red sludge on the ground. It smelled horrific. Even through Doomguy's respiratory system he could smell the rot.

The Arachnotron, to no surprise, had survived the ceiling drop. They're extremely skittish bastards. Mandibles clicking together, as if baiting The Slayer to strike, it screeched with an unholy tone. The building was shaken awake.

"Let's dance." Cocking his shotgun, he leaped to the side of the spider demon, causing it to flinch in surprise at the Slayer's sheer speed. Unloading two rounds of his trusty double barrel into the demon's brain-like fleshy mass, he proceeded to propel himself towards it with the help of the meat-hook attachment Vega had helped install. It was a damn fine addition to an already deadly force of mass annihilation.

The Doom Slayer loved it.

Spider-like reflexes kicked the Arachnotron into gear, and it bought itself seconds of survival by extending it's grotesque legs towards the Slayer. With an instinctual speed, it wedged itself into Doomguy's chestplate just beneath the breast. Not deep enough to pierce a lung, but deep enough to be dangerous. Blood rushed wildly out of the suit. Luckily for the Slayer, he was no ordinary man, and this action simply angered him further.

It took only a blink of an eye to see the spider entity explode from the inside into chunks as it was forced to swallow an ice bomb.

Vega flickered onto the visor screen.

"Your vitals are showing damage to the abdominal oblique muscle area. Going untreated may cause complications. Would you like assistance Flynn?"

"Hmm. Do it."

A sizzle of stimulants, anaesthetic, and medical grade gel had been dispatched to the area. The tiny nanobots that acted as a connection to Vega, had worked their magic. They could repair not only the armour, but also heal wounds, depending on how severe the damage is.

“What did I tell you earlier? Be careful. Please.” Vega’s pulsating icon on the Slayer’s HUD fizzed into darkness again.

"Thanks Vega, I need to be more focused, I know, I-" The marine cut himself off, as he remembered his ultimate goal in this place.

Hayden.

Time to get the shithead.

With renewed purpose, he continued upwards the building, knowing full well that Sam was going to get a well needed ass-kicking.

…

You were panicked. You don't know why. You simply were. Without Hayden to guide you, you were the ultimate authority. And that means you're the primary target, in case things go awry.

And with that huge hunk of demon-slaying man approaching, your stomach had been doing backflips.

Whilst everybody was cheering and celebrating, you were standing there. In shock.

_ I'm fucked. _

As if the ginger girl could hear your thoughts, she placed a small hand on your shoulder. This calmed you greatly, snapping you back to reality.

Looking down at the minuscule human, she pointed towards Dr. Elena Richardson with a huge grin on her face. Elena was obsessed with the idea of Doomguy. And seeing her lose her mind over taking a glimpse of him in action made you giggle more than you'd like.

It's strange how an idea of a person can change the morale of so many. A symbol of hope. It was horrifying to you. Nobody should have this much power. You've seen this happen before with Olivia Pierce. Your ex-boss. She had so much control over people, to change their tune that quickly was simply a gift. A charismatic cult leader. And it led to disaster. The deaths of so many innocent. No one… should have that much power.

As if sensing your impending doom, you began to collect yourself. Checking if the Crucible was in place, if Hayden's vitals were stable, and if the system defences were online.

Just in case.

Steps. Every single soul stopped in their tracks. They could sense his presence.

Steps. Heavy and metallic against the steel ground.

Getting louder and heavier.

He's approaching. Deep breaths.

A silhouette of 7ft5 had appeared before the glass door. An army green set of protective gear, only exposing his upper arms, simply stood there. Examining? Waiting?

You hesitantly ordered the door to be unlocked. One of your trusty employees in charge of security looked at you with worry. He trusted you, but his tiny eyes showed a glint of fear. You nodded at him. You knew that if anything happened to these people, it was your responsibility. Your head on the line. The security guy squinted at the button, confirming his decision.

Click. Swoosh. Hissing open, the door now welcomed anyone behind it.

Without a single eyedart towards the occupants of the lab, he stormed towards the Crucible. You sighed in relief. Hayden was safe. 

The Demonic Crucible was a strange power source. Sam never mentioned how he retrieved it from Mars, or how it saved the ARC with a few simple uses. Demonic hordes were felled by the pure argent energy that flowed from the sword into the facility's power core. All those cannons, the defence systems. All powered by the Crucible. It was mesmerising. 

And the Doom Slayer was going right for it.

You suddenly felt the urge to stop him. Your arms involuntarily stretched before you, darting towards the Slayer's shoulders. This sudden movement stopped the demon hunter in his tracks. You realised you had made a huge mistake. Without a doubt you were going to regret this instinct. The surrounding crowd of volunteers and employees simply scattered in the fear of you angering him.

Each and every one of the employees escaped. They knew that with the Slayer's reputation for violence, coupled with your reputation for emotional outbursts and a short temper, things could get ugly.

He nudged you off, surprisingly gentle in his movements, knowing full well that you're more fragile than his praetor suit. With a swift push, he continued towards the Crucible.

Panic set in once again. You realised that the Crucible was the only thing keeping you, and this facility, alive. Without it, defences are useless, and the data stream of research and evacuation progress will be powered off.

"Please. Don't take it," You pleaded with your eyes, "it's the only thing keeping this facility running. We'll die here without it."

The muscular man hesitated for a split second. The crinkled eyes underneath the visor somehow softened, and forced you to reconsider your original judgements on his strange character. Those softened eyes scanned you over, as if searching for another reason to not take the argent blade.

However, his demeanor completely changed when he caught a glimpse of the mangled torso of Dr. Samuel Hayden. A grunt left the Slayer's lips.

_ I guess he'll have no ass-kickin' today. No ass left to kick. _

Almost ten seconds had passed, as the Slayer's mind processed what he had witnessed. He seemed annoyed and relieved at the same time.

Confident strides were taken towards Sam's form, making you panic once again. With no regard for the condition of the cyborg's leftover core functions and brain, the man, almost with a crazed smile, yanked the torso out of the pod that kept Sam powered.

Your heart sank, and with a distraught sigh, you realised your original assumptions were correct.

Sam will die in hours. Without argent renewing his frontal and temporal lobes, this hundred and thirty year old will perish.

His brilliant mind, no matter how unfeeling and calculating, will be gone.

In a sudden burst of white hot fury, your legs carried you towards the green hunk of armour, and began pulling back your mentor.

"PUT HIM BACK!" Your flimsy arms grabbing whatever was left of Samuel, initiated a short game of tug of war with the Slayer. His sheer strength was unparalleled, yet he never tried to push you away or hurt you. In fact, your determination impressed him.

_ This girl has got balls. _

Still possessed by whatever rage inhibited you at that moment, you continued your game, not realising that a robotic voice on the intercom chimed in with dire news.

"Level five demonic threat entering the facility. Immediate evacuation commencing."

The Slayer's attention was now on the blood red sphere that materialized at the end of the room. Something blinked over his visor, a logo of a very familiar origin. It was cyan blue in colour, and pulsated to a similar rhythm of a heartbeat.

With a smile, he handed the cyborg's leftovers to you.

"I-what? Err… Thank you?" You struggled to find the words at the sudden change of heart the man showed. Your anger fizzing away, you curved a pleased smirk. You won.

"Don't thank me yet." For a few seconds, he stared your small figure down, and placed a gentle hand upon your hip. With a wink and a grin from the Slayer, you melted into the touch. Suddenly grabbing your waist and picking you up off the ground, he tossed your frame headfirst through the portal that unbeknownst to you formed behind you during these few somewhat blissfully flirty moments.

"WHAT THE FU-" You never finished your sentence as you flew, hanging on for dear life to the damaged chunk of your dear ARC leader.


	3. Mysticism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dazed and confused, the scientist arrives on the other side of the portal, to ultimately find more questions than answers.

Solid ground. Cold, metallic, and alien.

_ What in the fresh hell just happened? _

Your head never felt this heavy before. Almost as if a switch just flicked, a thought popped into your head.

_ Did I just get TELEPORTED? _

Sudden fear shook you. You've heard of teleportation devices and tethering, but never thought you'd have to experience it for yourself. At this revelation, the contents of your stomach had now become the contents of the surface you landed on.

_ Urgh… _

Your surroundings were unfamiliar, alien-like, and vast. Blue flames licked at the walls gently, sparkling around the room, tinting it in a cold unwelcoming hue. Your curiosity overwhelmed the panic and anger rising in your throat. Carefully examining the room, you turned around to see the full vastness surrounding you.

A gasp left the lungs. It's Earth? Were you really teleported off of the planet into some huge floating spaceship? Is this just a screen or a window? Why are you here? A million questions, yet no answers.

Beside your form, a large legless body lay. Hayden. The scientist and engineer inside you became active. Studying the damage on Samuel's torso, you sighed with relief. Just a few scratches here and there, but nothing that will impair his already malfunctioning half-body. The temporal and frontal lobes however? The cells will begin to deteriorate within hours. You need to find a source of energy. Fast.

A seething fury rose to your chest, quickly remembering how you got here in the first place. You wanted to scream, to shout at the top of your lungs. Things were turning inside out. Plan after plan, spoiled.

As if to kick you back to your senses, a gentle familiar voice resonated within the structure. It filled your chest with warmth and hope. The voice was so comforting, it caused a rupture of tears to come barrelling down your plump cheeks. You began to sob.

"Welcome Dr. Y/N, I am glad to see you're safe. Please, come to the centre of the station's hub, away from the inter-dimensional gate."

It's Vega. That same voice that guided you off Mars in your time of need.

"Vega, I thought you were gone, destroyed, I-" As the tears continued to steadily stream down your face, the surface of the station's ground lit up in a strange manner.

"I will explain later Dr. Y/N. Please, bring Dr. Hayden with you and follow the lit pathway. Place him within the secondary energy stream the path leads to. This will act as an energy source that will renew Dr. Hayden's cells."

"Energy source, got it." With renewed purpose, you tossed what was left of Hayden into the stream of light. It was a mesmerising sight, glimmers of aquamarine, flashing in and out as Sam made contact with the energy that flowed through him. A waterfall of flickering beams, and glittering chunks came alive, almost as if Hayden belonged to the ship.

"Dr. Hayden's structure is similar to the ship's own systems. He is attempting to make contact with the mainframe. This may take a couple of hours."

Still fascinated by the view before you, your hand stretched towards the beams of energy, ignoring any, and all noise around you.

A large suited hand quickly seized your arm from moving any further.

"Don't." The gigantic 7ft5 figure appeared before you, delicately shifting your arm back to your side. His other arm seemed to hold what looked like the Demonic Crucible.

_ So he did take it in the end. I’ve failed them as a leader. They’re all going to die. _

"Welcome back, Slayer." Vega's presence calmed you, but the Slayer's presence overruled the tranquillity. Never have you had this much hatred and seething fury for a single man. Reflexes kicked in, forcing your appendages to fling and punch at the man before you.

Somewhat amused at the sight of a small angry creature, he hummed nonchalantly, showing little to no concern for the scratches that appeared on his armour.

He simply stood there, letting you fight the rage out.

"Dr. Y/N. The Slayer brought you here in order to rebuild Samuel Hayden. I recommended your skills during your slight disagreement within the ARC facility. Dr. Hayden taught you certain schematics on his structure. Is that correct?"

"Y-you asshole! You've screwed them over!"

Legs kicking, and arms flailing at the tall figure, you continued to call him colourful names.

To demonstrate his annoyance, the Slayer grasped both your arms, staring you down. Unable to move, you wriggled like a worm. A minute passed as you calmed down, taking short and shallow breaths, still fully aware of the boiling blood within you.

"You done?" He let go of your arms. Your injured ego flared through, making you sulk.

With a huff, and a deep breath, you collected yourself. 

"Yes."

"Good," A victorious grin spread on the man's face, "Vega?"

Screens in the main hub began flashing, restarting, and launching programs. Ones with Samuel Hayden's data, explaining his build and the structure that keeps the lobes active. Others with the materials and tools needed to build that body.

Realisation hit you like a brick to the face.

The Slayer wanted you to rebuild Sam.

_ Sigh. _

"Fine. But on one condition. You stay away from me, and let me do my job. I'll do my part, you do yours," as you explained your terms, Doomguy patiently waited for you to finish, "Now, where do I go to begin? I'd like to get this over and done with as soon as possible."

The tall figure nodded towards a huge metallic door, embellished with a strange curved head.

Without a second thought, you storm out, wondering about all of the people you left behind. The small redhead, with eyes larger than life and bluer than the deepest ocean. The Slayer obsessed Elena, whose hopes for a better future fueled your determination.

Not even a prayer can rest the worry in your heart. It's your fault, and yours alone. You could've stopped that barbarian. He hesitated when you pleaded him. Maybe that was all that was needed to stop this chain of events. Maybe there was some semblance of humanity within him. Mercy.

It was too late to think about this. You had a new goal. A new purpose. If Samuel was in your position, his demeanour would've stayed the same throughout the darkest of tragedies.

Distant and cold-hearted.

A true born leader.

…

"Flynn, do you think Dr. Y/N will cope with the situation well?" Chiming in, Vega's cyan lights flashed in the central hub to indicate speech.

"Hmm?"

"Perhaps notifying her that you helped them will ease her concerns. It's important to keep her morale up if she is to complete this project in time." Vega's hopeful tone caught him off guard. It's not usual that Vega portrays this much worry for anyone but the Slayer himself.

"I… no. Let's not disturb her. Anger is a good motivator."

"Let her cool down first? I see."

Truth is, he did enough damage. Letting her collect herself was the best idea for now. He wasn't ready for another so-called 'beatdown' from that tiny angry creature.

_ Heh, cute. How can something so small be so full of rage? Very cute. Almost as cute as Daisy. Almost. _

The Slayer's chest ached. Ever since the fight with that damned spider demon, he had been fantasising about getting out of the praetor suit, and taking a well needed hot shower. However after the surprise visit at the ARC HQ, he had been even more in need of a clean. He never wanted a demon blood paint job on his armour, much less on his open wound that Vega helped partially patch up.

"Buddy, you help me out? Armour needs repairin'. Uergh- I might need some too." A pained sigh left Doomguy's lips, attempting to take off his 45lbs chestplate. Successful in his attempts and revealing his bare chest covered in congealed blood, he placed the metal piece within an armoury hub, which quickly spun itself inside the wall, making the armour suddenly shoot up a transparent tube to be repaired.

"Thanks buddy." Pleased, the Slayer let out a warm smile, and slapped the wall in a friendly manner.

He was so ready for rest. And food. So. Much. Food.

But first, his chest was developing a new scar.

Again.

Moving slowly but carefully, with most of his armour still on, he went to the medical bay. Somewhat stereotypical in its appearance, the medical bay had a large white opening, and five single size beds. Two cabinets, containing disinfectants, bandages, and all manner of medicine of Earth's origin stood at the back of the room. A pod, a cryostasis look-alike, stood dead centre. That was the Slayer's goal. Casually walking out of his remaining chunks of blood stained armour, he sank an entire foot in height.

"Vega?"

"Initiating first aid protocols. Please enter the medical pod."

With a light sigh, the demon hunter placed himself, legs first, inside of the metallic interior. The cold shook his body as soon as skin touched metal.

_ I should really wear something other than boxer shorts underneath. Like PJ's maybe. That would be nice. _

Seconds later, a low hum began reverberating within the pod. A small cloud of chrome flew from two tubes, gently healing Doomguy's already half healed chest wound. These nanobots worked as an extension of Vega. Since he had no body, and his AI mind could adapt to any structure with processing capabilities, he took it upon himself to utilise these tiny medical bots.

"Damn…" The man let out a sigh, this time pleased.

"Procedure complete. I suggest having a hot meal and a hot shower before moving on to any tasks you have ahead."

Climbing out as quickly as possible to get back into the warm, he smirked into the air.

"The only task on my mind now is sleep. And lots of it. Haven't slept in three days, remember?"

"Understood, I'll notify you if there is anything urgent, Flynn."

"Hey, buddy? Look after her? That… Dr. Y/N? See if she's hungry or… I don't know. Just make sure she's ok." The Slayer's expression softened into a guilty puppy, head tilted down with droopy lips. He felt bad for the way he mistreated her. She was one of the only people that seemed to lack the fear when around him. And he's screwing his chances at some decent communication. Hell, the first decent communication within years. Maybe even eons.

"I will. Now, go get some rest. You deserve it. I'll keep watch." Vega's lights flickered, and died down, indicating that his presence and focus had moved to another part of the fortress.

With a sigh and a nod, the somewhat defeated man slowly sauntered towards the showers.

…

Pushing the strands of hair away from your face, you rubbed your eyes back into focus. It's been perhaps three hours since you heard from anybody. You liked it that way. But this place was making you feel restless. Staring at the schematics, at the strange equipment that you strangely understood, and the half mangled body of your mentor that Doomguy moved to your personal engineering corner of the ship, made you so very aware of how lonely you truly were. The thoughts of your team haven't left either. 

_ I'll go for a walk, screw it. I need to clear my head. _

Bursting with sudden energy and bravery, you walked back into the central hub, back where you first landed. Staring at the now clean spotless floor, embarrassment began rising to your cheeks.

_ Urgh. _

Your attention, however, was yanked by a green flash, surrounded by a sea of blue. Your curiosity got the better of you, making you inch closer towards the screen. With a press of a button, a familiar feminine voice gave your spine shivers.

"This is an ARC Broadcast. ARC personnel have reported that the Slayer made his way to Dr. Hayden's tower and has retrieved his remains. We do not know why. Dr. Y/N, the Acting Chairman of the ARC, was also taken, for reasons unknown. Despite these circumstances, the Slayer left two objects of unknown origin with ARC personnel. These objects have aided in the defence and evacuation of the ARC Headquarters, and have become a reliable source of energy for the defending base. It is believed that Doomguy has joined our fight, and will continue to support us in our time of need. We will continue to update the situation as the news comes. Stay safe, stay vigilant."

With a tiny huff, your stomach became a breeding ground for butterflies, yet your heart sank. The sheer happiness that overwhelmed you was euphoric. The demons have been kept at bay, and your people are still alive. But the guilt had tripped you out of this delight. Your savage outbursts, the colourful names you tossed at the man, they were all uncalled for. You assumed, and you were proved wrong.

Your mind was running amok, making up excuses for your behaviour, as well as forcing different scenarios where you never found out about this broadcast, into your mind.

Yet with all the oxygen in your lungs, the only noise you could muster was "Oh…"


	4. Omniscience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guilt becoming overbearingly heavy, both the scientist and the Slayer push to make amends.

You sat, cross-legged, on the metallic floor opposite Sam's torso. The surrounding area was littered with various equipment. Screwdrivers, soldering irons, pcbs, and random chunks of metal were spread before you in a manner of organised chaos. Your eyes kept darting between the full body image of your mentor, and his now destroyed vessel. You tried your best to replicate his previous appearance. Gently picking up pieces of white metallic plates, LED lights, and motor sensors, you continued your work.

It was strange to now have the time to breathe, to work on something that didn't include other people's livelihoods. And though you're grateful, you couldn't help but feel bad for the previous few hours.

_ He helped. _

You felt a rush of guilt sweep over you once more. Apologising would probably do no good, as he didn't seem like one for words. Actions would do the trick. But what could you do that would show your appreciation? Perhaps finishing Sam was all you could do for now.

The pang of guilt was taken over by annoyance all of a sudden. You were comically tossed in through the portal. Bruises on your forearms and knees were evidence of that. Perhaps not talking was ok. You leave him to his own devices, and he does the same to you. You felt like a whiny baby. The emotions were running awry, and you never had to deal with this much.

Guilt, anger, relief.

Everybody you worked with knew that you lived on a short fuse. Your temper was always on the rise. Perhaps this was the effect of a troubled past. Or daresay, the lack of one. Having no recollection of your childhood and early teens past the age of fifteen, you always wondered who and what you truly were. In appearance, an attractive young woman. In mind, intelligent and witty. But there was something constantly gnawing at you. Something wasn’t right.

“Goddammit. Why am I like this?” You scoffed under your breath, letting out a breathy sigh. Your thoughts were unexpectedly halted, as a glitching vibration resonated from within the room you occupied.

“Hayden? Is that you?” Spooked, you began looking for the source. All of the lights flashed in a possessed manner, indicating the refresh of all of the ship’s systems.

“F-f-finally.” Your excitement and wonder was obvious. Hayden had transferred his systems completely to the fortress’ mainframe.

“I’m so glad you’re back Sam. Now, you might be a bit shocked, but your body was torn apart by-” Before you could finish your welcome speech, Hayden cut you off abruptly.

“Y/N, I’m aware of the details. My consciousness was fully active throughout your time at the ARC. I’m impressed. You truly are cut out for this… pressure. If only you had my flair with the Doom Slayer. A shame.”

Your witty reflexes kicked in.

“Figures, Hayden, you were always a dick, heh.” A sudden burst of laughter emanated throughout the chamber.

It's been too long since you laughed with Samuel like this. It was a welcome distraction.

Although you had a rocky friendship, one filled with dizzying highs and roller coaster lows, you both knew that in situations like these, old friends were a luxury. For he was the only one who accepted what you are. A kid without a home, and without a past.

So laugh you did, heartily, and with maniacal glee, for that was all both of you had left.

…

Doomguy’s head perked up.

“Laughter?”

“It seems that Dr. Hayden has transferred himself completely into the ship’s mainframe, and is now communicating with Dr. Y/N. Should I inform Dr. Hayden that he is needed in the central hub?” Vega’s soft voice lulled him back to shutting his eyes.

“Hmm nah,” he swivelled around on the bed, tucking his arms under his stomach, landing face first into a dozen pillows, “how long was I out?”

“Seven hours, sixteen minutes, and forty eight seconds. I recommend a total of fifteen hours to make up for the days that you have not slept.” In a gentle tone, Vega’s caring words brought comfort to the laying man.

“Hmm that’d be nice.”

The laughter continued, almost in a hysterical manner. The endearing sound of Y/N laughing, and having the time of her life made his cheeks turn a warm peach. He hadn’t heard that sound in many years. It was a rare commodity during a demonic apocalypse.

Smiling to himself, he shut his eyes, unknowingly thinking about a happy Y/N, tossing her hair side to side, cuddling a small chestnut bunny whilst giggling to herself. Within milliseconds, his breaths became slower and deeper, drifting into a blissful sleep.

…

It’s been eighteen hours, with you working away at your mentor’s body. Hayden left the engineering part of the ship to leave you in peace. The focus you possessed seemed to be endless. Every time you looked up at the time, a jolt of shock passed through you at your time travelling capabilities. Since the haughty laughter session, you had a certain kind of determination. To finish this project; to bring back the normal.

You didn’t expect a surprise visit from the Slayer that very moment. He sauntered through, wearing grey joggers, and a black tank top, showing off his brawny assets. Without a word, he extended one arm towards you, which held a large pizza box. Before you could even react to the mouth-watering smell, your eyes darted to the man attached to the arm.

His eyes were a deep hazel, flecks of verdant green dotted throughout the iris. The lashes hung low from his lids, indicating a recent good nap. His eyebrows were harshly angled, demanding your attention. A deeply sloped hawk nose was accompanied with thin yet perky lips, making his appearance a certainly pleasant sight.

What made him seem adorable was seeing his overly fluffy hair. Cut military style, with slight overgrowth on the top, it flopped playfully, shining a soft dark blond against his tanned skin.

The scars certainly added character. If his scars had a book, it would be a million pages long. Some were decades old. Light and gentle in appearance. Others were only a few months, deep and harsh. The scars that stood out were the ones across his right eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, and the top and bottom of the lips. That collection was a trophy show of his strength and survival. And damn he wore those medals well. His arms, that poked out of the tank top, were a whole other story however. The scars there were endless. Either this man was bad at dodging, or he's… ancient.

Before you could continue this train of thought, you snapped back to reality. The tall silhouette before you shifted uncomfortably, arching his scarred eyebrow upwards in puzzlement. Realising you spaced out staring at him, your awkward demeanour flared up, forcing you to nearly knock the box out of his bulky hand as you tried to take a pizza slice.

The side of his mouth curved upwards, grinning at the butterfingered sight before him.

_ Why am I like this? Just why? _

The man set the pizza box to your side, winking at you, signalling that the meal was yours entirely. Walking out as casually as he walked in, he left you in silence. This small interaction left you breathless. Not because of Doomguy's undeniably attractive appearance, but because of the sheer hunger that had overwhelmed you as the smell of Hawaiian pizza wafted into your system. Shoving entire chunks of the dough into your mouth, your seemingly endless pit of a stomach quieted down. You didn't realise how hungry you were until now.

There's another thing to thank him for. Though it's difficult to thank someone who appears and disappears as quickly as a shooting star.

With your stomach quiet, your lap covered in crumbs, and your mind running amok with interaction scenarios between you and the striking man, you continued on with your work on Sam's new legs.

…

He ruffled his locks. The sight of Y/N spacing out and staring at him with the expression of pure awe was bizarre. He was more used to her trying to cover him in bruises rather than observing his details. It was normal really, as most people treated him with either amazement, deifying him, or absolutely hating him, showing nothing but pure disdain towards him. The latter was more common amongst demon-kind though.

Yet the sight of her small face, doe-eyed and warm-hearted, was a reminder that he hadn't communicated with any human for a long time. He was starved for long chats, small talk or otherwise. Though the lack of conversation had hurt his people skills, and he had already damaged the chances for a potential friend.

So the small word-less interaction between them was a hopeful start.

He walked into his chambers, the lower quarters. Standing there, thinking up ways to strike up conversation. Perhaps even another excuse to walk in there and give her something.

“Flynn, the temperature within the engineering bay is below average for human standards.” Vega noticed the Slayer’s struggle, and decided to push a suggestion his way.

"Maybe she's cold? I'll give 'er one of my hoodies. Thanks buddy."

Opening a carefully concealed cabinet beside his collection of various figurines from multiple fictional universes, he browsed through dozens of garments. Most were band and video game merchandise hoodies. From heavy industrial metal bands, to well-known first person shooters, the cabinet had it all. Picking out one of the newer and comfier hoodies, he threw it over his shoulder and prepared himself by clearing his throat.

Though it may be slightly too large, the Slayer had no doubt it would flood in some words from the both of them.

Chuckles were just as welcome.

…

If anyone would've told you that the Slayer is a huge softie, you wouldn't have believed their lying stupid face.

Though there he was, standing sheepishly, grinning at the empty pizza box, with a hoodie in hand. A few moments had passed as you exchanged looks, unsure of where to start off. You both had the desire to talk. An understanding smile, a shoulder to lean on.

Parting his lips, the man began by inching his arm closer to you, outstretching a hand, holding some obscure video game hoodie, titled 'DooT'.

"Here. In case you're cold. Hmm?" His voice was more buttery than you imagined. Smooth, and deep. No distortions through the helmet, which made him sound less human and more like an airplane engine. Feeling the heat rising to your cheeks, an inaudible gasp escaped your lips as you took the oversized hoodie from his hand. Your fingers brushed for a moment's notice.

He watched intently, almost motioning you to put it on. You complied, and practically crawled into the parachute of a hoodie. It absorbed you entirely, leaving a comic sight of a tiny head, and four minuscule limbs peeking out from under the black cloth mass. 

After a small chuckle from the both of you, he turned to leave.

"I-wait." You couldn't help yourself.

He stopped in his tracks. Turning to you, his face was now tinted a slight pink. He raised his eyebrows to show his attention was yours.

"I wanted to say thank you. And that I'm sorry." As you clumsily blurted that out, his expression softened even further. His face was welcoming and attentive.

"Don't mention it. You finished with that?" A finger extended towards the ravaged pizza box.

"I don't think I'll be eating cardboard anytime soon, thanks for the offer though."

A sweet grin spread across his features, crinkling the corners of his expressive eyes.

Your emotions were torn between being upset at this man, and being absolutely enamoured. The change in attitude he had towards you was certainly bizarre. Did he feel sorry for you? Or was it simply that he was having a laugh at playing with your already traumatised, scarred mind? Your stomach felt heavy again. The tension you felt could almost be grabbed and taught around your body. Paranoia. That was an emotion you had familiarity with.

This change in atmosphere caused a rupture in the lighthearted conversation.

“You ok?” A concerned look was plastered on the Slayer’s face. Passing seconds extended that cursed awkwardness.

“I-yeah. I’m just tired.” The Slayer was not convinced. Your pitiful sigh, an involuntary sound leaving the lips, said it all. He suddenly understood that the palpable tension was the result of his actions.

Kneeling down next to you, he offered a hand. You flinched, grimacing at your instincts. You knew full well that he meant no harm. Yet your mind could not help but be overly cautious. Placing your hand into his, he instantly turned your arm, pushing the titanic sleeve up to look at the bruises. Galactic splodges of blood beneath the skin spread across your forearm like a stardust cluster. The obvious result of a careless toss through the portal.

Frowning at himself, the Slayer cursed under his breath.

“Damn, I’m sorry. Bud, examine for any other damage.” Still holding your arm, this time gently placing his other on top of your bruises, he ordered a full examination of the other injuries. Vega’s quick work took only a minute, as lights whizzed from all directions, scanning you attentively.

“There’s really no need, I’m fine.” Flushed at the sudden care from the guy you judged so harshly, you wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock. Judgement of character was usually your strong suit, which is why Hayden always put you as second-in-command or as his little spy. But not this time.

“There is no notable damage. Dr. Y/N, you will recover to full strength. I recommend iron and bromelain rich foods for quicker recovery.” The soothing voice which always had a positive effect on you, suddenly pushed all thoughts of worry away. Sleep was all that called to you.

You realised that over thirty hours of wakefulness, with but a few hours of sleep each time, had finally caught up with you. Your arm, uncomfortably hot, had been released from the Slayer’s surprisingly gentle captivity. Noticing your droopy eyelashes, the Slayer looked at you, almost in pity.

“Slayer, Dr. Y/N is in an extreme state of exhaustion. I insist that she immediately get rest.”

“How long has it been since you slept, hmm hun’? C’mere.” Without hesitation, two muscular arms scooped you up effortlessly. Too tired to resist, your vision drifted. Doubt it would do any good if you had whacked the guy who has been so hospitable so far.

As doors whooshed open, and clunked closed, the soft warmth of constant breath blowing on your arms lulled you into a secure sense of tranquillity. The snugness of his arms reminded you of a long lost home. A tenderness that felt like a distant feverish dream. Absent-mindedly, your bruised arm curled up around the man’s neck, not minding the desperation of your touch starved self. You could sense his eyes drifting on you with every step of the way. With these last few affectionate moments before you were placed upon a fresh mattress, your thoughts were of Earth before the invasion. Unaltered. Calm. Thriving.

At that very second, you were in pure bliss.


	5. Semiotics

Fire spread like a deadly plague. Faces in agony, screeching, of terror and pain, penetrated your senses. Your legs carried you past vast pits of mutilated flesh, made of pulsating veins and crushed bones. Tormented souls surrounded you. Faceless horrors screamed at you for mercy, begging for the pain to stop. Surrounded by metal cages, masses of gore spilled from between each bar, churning your stomach to a pulp. You've been here before countless times. Yet each time it was harrowing.

_ Hell. _

Your face felt wet, unsure if it was tears or sweat, you were hesitant to find out. In a desperate attempt to dry your face, you wiped your cheek. Looking down at your fingers, you realised that the liquid streaming down was blood. You howled.

A familiar sigil flashed before your vision. It tormented you for years. That same sigil you witnessed on the Sarcophagus. That same sigil that you saw on His helmet.

Your eyes pleaded for the lights to stop, for your mind to be spared the insanity it was subject to. Vermilion images of Mars and Hell merging, views you've seen before. Then Earth. Scorching, churning, morphing. 

White hot rage, pure hate and fear.

Those were the emotions running through your blood during every visit here.

You resumed running. Anywhere. Just away from here. Away from these fleshy pits and desperate arms reaching for your soul, away from the flashing lights. Running as quickly as you could, the howling wind and fire pushed you towards a passageway, where skulls and pentagrams decorated the walls in a ritualistic fashion. These cultist halls pulled you in, looking for a victim to swallow up.

As you reached the end of the hall, two gargantuan doors creaked open in a welcoming fashion. An ethereal silhouette of ivory and gold outstretched its arms towards your shivering form, towering nearly 20 feet over you. The warmth of this gesture calmed you. However, the act felt insincere. Almost like a trap.

An instinct kicked in. You needed to leave. Fast.

The angel-like figure frowned, it’s feline eyes displeased at your refusal to cooperate. Opening its mouth, a familiar voice called to you.

“Do not resist. Come to me. Follow my will. You are but a lost child, let me guide you. Let me give you purpose.” The abnormal intonation of the feminine voice was somewhat familiar. Whatever that entity was, it meant you harm through lies of prosperity and happiness.

The figure realising its failure to persuade you, flung a large arm in dismissal, causing a wind to throw you back the way you came.

As you flew past the gore filled corridor, another flash of the sigil burned itself into your mind, causing your muscles to tense and spasm from the burning pain you endured. An indescribable agony pierced through your skull as you opened your eyes.

_ It was just a nightmare. _

Your heavy lids involuntarily shut again. Cold sweat dripped down your forehead into your eye, causing a sting to erupt. The room you lay in was freezing. Yet images of your hell ridden dream kept flashing searing heat onto your body.

With a sigh, you sat up in bed. You were soaked, your muscles ached, and you were still extremely tired.

It was a recurring nightmare, a lucid night terror, that you’ve endured ever since you could remember. Your first memory, at the age of fifteen, was this nightmare. You tried multiple times to change the course of the dream, perhaps reaching back to the angel-like figure, or maybe running the opposite direction. It always manipulated you to follow the same path however. Every time, it felt like you were controlled by some entity. Possessed by a foreign force. You were fully in control of your mind, but not your body. Like sleep paralysis.

A small comforting voice startled you, shaking these thoughts away.

“Dr. Y/N, I’ve detected a triggered fight or flight response, yet my sensors do not show an immediate threat within the vicinity. May I be of assistance with emotional support?” Vega lit up the room with a cool cerulean light.

“Just had a nightmare, nothing serious. Thanks Vega.” Your lips curled into a wistful smile.

“Talking is a coping mechanism that humans use often to relieve tension and anxiety. Please let me help, Doctor.” He seemingly persisted on the topic.

“It was a recurring dream. I have those once or twice a month or so. Don’t worry, I’m used to it.” You stared up at the ceiling, assuming that Vega appreciates your attempt at directing your speech towards him. A miniscule exhale left your lungs, preparing yourself for one of Vega’s infamous lectures.

“I promised the Slayer that I will keep watch of your well-being, and assist any way I can when the need arises. I am determined to keep that promise. In addition, you are my friend. I have not forgotten your aid and cooperation during our time on Mars.” The soft pulsing of the lights continued. He wouldn’t leave without completing his task.

“Alright Vega, but I want an answer first. How did you survive Mars? Reports showed that your coolant system and core were both damaged beyond repair. Even Hayden recollected the events. The Slayer destroyed it.” You eagerly sat up, awaiting his reply.

“The answer is simple. The Slayer backed up my personality and memory onto a data chip. I am but a copy of what I once was. However my functionality and purpose is unchanged. I am an artificial intelligence, ready to serve and assist using my programming. Within reason, of course.” Surprised at Vega’s response, you resorted to facts.

“Vega, you had an entire separate facility to keep your processors cool. The power needed to operate you created a temperature of one point seven mega-kelvins. That's a hundred and seventy three times the surface of the sun! How on this God forsaken universe are you operating here?”

“I am not at liberty to say. All I can comment on is that the Slayer was capable of transferring my A.I. to full functionality aboard this ship. Now, about your nightmare.” The quick deflection of this question formed suspicious thoughts in your already addled mind. Preparing yourself for the recollection of your terror, you licked your lips.

“I was in hell, Vega. I see it every time. Earth turning inside out, people dying, blood waterfalls, people being gutted. That's what the nightmare was.”

“You say it is recurring?”

“Since my teens.” You scoffed a pitiful sigh, almost in annoyance.

“Perhaps you have experienced a traumatic event in your past to cause these dreams?” Ever persistent, he kept pushing for more information.

“If that traumatic event can cause amnesia, then sure. I mean… I know what happened before, I simply can’t remember. I’m told my parents died shortly after my birth. Arson. Then I had a relatively normal childhood. Jumping from orphanage to orphanage. But no, no traumatic events as far as I know.” Somewhat nonchalant in your recollection, Vega had no more questions. He simply flashed the hub for a moment’s notice, and hummed in deep thought.

“Perhaps we can continue this conversation later. I am aware that you have not eaten breakfast yet? Additionally, you are severely dehydrated. Come Doctor, follow the lit pathway as before, please.” Vega’s polite voice fizzed away as you followed his instructions.

You were still fully clothed from the previous night, except for the oversized hoodie that the Slayer gifted you. It lay beside the bed, on a tiny set of drawers which contained all kinds of medical equipment. You decided to crawl back into the hoodie, simply out of respect for the man who offered it to you. Following a corridor, whizzing past a large set of skull-embellished doors, your nose welcomed a divine smell. Your stomach rumbled in retaliation.

The path seemingly finished at a large door from where the smell was emanating. It flew open, and the waft of doughy scents made you almost rabid.

“Mornin’ hun’, you hungry?” A beaming Slayer sat beside a large table, with a plate of golden brown waffles covered in maple syrup. Your eyes had a hard time focusing, as both the sight of breakfast food, and Doomguy was equally irresistible. His unruly hair called to be ruffled. You had to resist the urge.

Realising you space out every time you come into contact with the man, you meekly shuffled towards the table.

“Here, have mine. I haven’t started yet. I’ll get another plate.” The man pushed his plate of heaven towards you, and watched expectantly.

A nervous laugh left your throat.

“Don’t worry, waffles are good. You have had them before, right?” He smirked mischievously.

“Yeah, I have. It’s just… I haven’t had normal food for a while. Mostly ate nutrient paste at the ARC Headquarters. So, thanks.”

“No worries. Want a coffee?”

“No, I want a name.” Your sudden smirk caught him off guard. He shuffled awkwardly, thinking up ways to dodge the question. His expression seemed to change from hesitation, to understanding. You wanted a proper introduction. You only had one chance at first impressions, sure, but redeeming yourself was also a good start.

“It's a complicated one. But you can call me Flynn.” A hint of a pleasant grin appeared on his face.

“Pleased to meet you Flynn. I’m Y/N.” You extended a hand, waiting to shake his. His palm, double the size of yours, enveloped your hand wholly. Within moments, you both stared at each other with warm smiles. The welcoming warmth that his grasp emitted was enough to make you space out instantly. You felt his thumb gently caress against the back of your hand, almost as if he knew what troubled you, and tried to calm you with tender touches.

“Slayer, your presence is needed in the central hub. Your gear has been fully prepared.” Always with perfect timing, Vega interrupted your wordless conversation.

“Well, if you excuse me, hun’. Bon appetit.” With a wave of his arm and a slight wink, he left you in silence, to ponder this roller coaster start of the day.

…

“Flynn, the ARC HQ has been infiltrated by demonic forces. I believe the Sentinel Batteries you have provided were taken by a demon.” If Vega had a desperate voice, this was it. The sheer annoyance and rage the Slayer was emitting could overpower the sun itself. He swiftly stepped inside his praetor suit, and grabbed his vast arsenal.

“The gate is ready, please proceed.” Ready to rip and tear some demons a new one, the Slayer bounced through the portal.

Arriving at a chaotic scene, his skin crawled. Where he had no sympathy for the UAC, he saw ARC employees as people who were on the right path towards redemption. They were the driving force of the resistance. A refuge for the innocent. And yet, the view before him was harrowing. Disembowelled victims lay in pools of their own blood. The smell of iron was invasive. This scene was an affront to what Earth stood for.

Shifting with unbridled rage towards the source of the distress call, he noticed a small body enveloped in ginger curls. The adolescence held a tiny beacon, certainly the one which contacted the Fortress of Doom.

Sadness washed over him. It is easy to distance oneself from the horrors of the world, yet facing them takes a toll on more than the psyche. The tiny human lay there, lifeless eyes peering up to the ceiling, her final moments filled with no light at the end of the tunnel.

Flynn gently pushed the ginger mass of curls away from the girl’s face, recalling that this same lass was following Y/N around during their first less-than-pleasant meeting.

_ Sigh. Too many have died. _

“Flynn, this is not your fault. It was an inside job.” Vega’s information startled Doomguy, and caused him to flinch out of his sombre thoughts.

“Hmm? What?”

“I’ve detected an outgoing transmission. It held a message of the ARC structure, the employees, and the artifacts it holds. This signal could only be intercepted by an intelligent being. I suggest caution.”

“You’re saying demons aren’t the cause?” The Slayer possessed a confused tone.

“I’m saying it is an intelligent demon. Be careful.”

Excited, the Slayer took large strides towards the next room, where his previous battle took place. Without delay, demons began flooding from every corner of the room. Veering his shotgun, the demons fell one by one. Blood of all hues splashed in each direction. Quick and easy work for the Slayer himself.

Crazed screeching left each demon as they scattered to their final deaths. Body parts, numerous and torn to shreds, were flung at the remaining demons. Imps, Gargoyles, Revenants. They all fell under the Doom Slayer’s sadistic boot. He laughed maniacally at the sight before him, tearing anything that got in his path. 

Moments of slaughter passed, as a sanguine light formed in the middle of the battlefield. A familiar burly figure stepped through,challenging the Slayer once more.

“Welcome back, thought I killed your sorry ass before.” Doomguy grimaced at the altered version of the Marauder, an old friend.

“I am not that easy to get rid of Slayer. I will serve the Khan Maykr for as long as the universe holds a beating heart. You however, will die. You betrayed the Maykrs, and the Sentinels. For that, you must be punished, friend.” Closing the gap between them, the Marauder inched closer to show off his recent augmentations. His soulless eyes shone brighter than before, showing clear signs of synthetic change.

“What happened to you Teivel? Jesus, you were meant to help me fight back the very demons you side with. Why?” The Slayer struggled to understand the purpose of this meeting. They circled each other, causing tensions to rise.

“Would you disobey your leader? It is unwise to spit in the face of God. Especially one that promises prosperity in exchange for a small sacrifice.”

“Small sacrifice? Do you really believe that? Billions are dead because of what your ‘God’ promised. You’re indoctrinated, just like the rest.” The Slayer’s patience was running thin. Seeing his old comrade changed into the very thing he despised was stomach churning. It took every ounce of his will to keep the bile from creeping up. He had no problem with violence and gore of all kinds. Yet seeing one of his closer friends, turned into a monstrosity, awakened disgust deeper than his core.

“Enough. We shall settle this, now. Draw your weapon Flynn. Let us witness how your powers stand against an augmented elite of hell.”

Teivel’s neon scarlet axe crashed against the floor, spinning into a large shield that covered his entire body. A shotgun blast from his double barrel pointed towards the Slayer in an attempt to injure. Flynn strafed with ease. Unwillingly, he took his Ballista out in retaliation.

It was chaotic. Two comrades, fighting to the death. Blood for blood. Fighting for their beliefs. Bullets penetrating their flesh mercilessly, grunts of pain were the only sounds exchanged between them. Metal and flesh, in an unholy union, persevered to destroy all innocence.

The Slayer’s brows crinkled in disappointment. He knew how this would end. The Marauder dying, and eventually coming back, resurrected stronger than ever before. Each time it became harder to beat him. Both physically and mentally.

This bloodthirsty battle continued for what felt like hours. With resources running low on both ends, they became more desperate to win.

“Who was it that tipped you off?” Attempting to catch Teivel off-guard, Flynn struck up a feeble conversation.

“Does it matter? They’re serving the Khan now.” A breathy exchange caused the Marauder to trip, landing him between the Slayer’s double barrel and the cold hard floor. With a swift kick of his burdensome boot, the Slayer was pushed down by a demonic force.

_ Fair game, Teivel, Fair game. _

Both of them bouncing back to their feet and cursing under their breaths, their Argenta battle techniques aided the fight. Teivel’s fighting style was similar to that of Flynn’s, as they both trained under Valen. However their battles always leaned in the favour of the Slayer. His pure, overwhelming power could not be matched.

Rapidly, the Slayer threw an ice bomb behind the Marauder. This distracted Teivel. His red seeing orbs of fire directed at the flung chunk of ice were his downfall. He turned to shield himself from the blast. The Slayer, seeing an opportunity, moved forwards with an ungodly speed.

It happened in milliseconds.

Teivel’s body swivelled to face Flynn. He knew exactly what was happening.

“Kar En Tuk, Slayer.”

A single shotgun blast to the head. Purple lifeblood spilled like a torrential flood down the Marauder’s neck. Whatever was left of his face, hung like a sad chunk of rotting meat left out in the hot July sun. Copper wires, implants, and the brain introduced itself to the outside world.

_ I’m sorry, old friend. _

It never got any easier. Seeing the state of his murdered comrade was agonising. Sighing in regret, he turned to leave this God-forsaken facility.

“Wait. Take the Marauder’s body with you. It may be useful. I will examine it for clues of their demonic alterations.” Vega always gave great suggestions, yet this one felt wrong.

Scooping whatever was left of Teivel’s eviscerated head and body, he drifted towards the materialising portal, back home.

_ I’m so sorry. _


	6. Hermeneutics

You continued your work on your mentor’s body, as both you and Hayden conversed on the future of civilisation, and the predicament humanity is in. You had doubts that life would ever return to normal. Even if a tiny glimmer of hope and survival did shine through, humanity would struggle to carry on for decades, maybe even centuries. However, every traumatic part of history seemed to be followed by a supersonic rise in advancement. Culture and technology, and especially population numbers, sky rocket to insane heights every time.

“-that doesn’t mean that humans will live on forever. We can barely colonise our own system. I mean, c’mon Sam. It's simply pathetic.” You argued for hours, keeping each other company in this dark and dreary time.

“No. Humanity is stronger than this. With the Slayer here, Hell cannot stand in its way.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. We’re fragile beings. We’ve survived centuries of infighting, environmental disasters, man-made accidents. But our luck IS running short, you know.” You kept talking, as your hands and eyes focused on the workspace before you. With a sip of a deep, rich tasting coffee, you carried on soldiering minuscule chunks of data boards together. These acted as Sam’s vestibular systems, keeping him from toppling over when in constant movement. Concentration was key.

“I know. Everything is temporary, Y/N. But there are certain measures we can take to ensure a prolonged survival. We must continue using Arg-” As the sentence nearly escaped Hayden, you scorched a wire, melting the sleeving to the printed circuit board. Your temper was on the rise.

“Argent energy? The very energy source that got us into this apocalyptic mess in the first place? I don’t think those kinds of measures are worth it Sam. Not now. Not ever.” You huffed in disbelief. Hayden had struck a very sensitive nerve. As you both sat in silence, you continued sipping your coffee, unsure if further words were necessary. You scrapped the equipment, unpacking a new set of circuit boards and wires.

A distant crash could be heard in the central hub. Your instant reaction was to drop all you were doing, and run towards the source of the disturbance. Realising how desperate and concerned you felt, you slowed down to calm the raging storm inside you.

It was Flynn. Flooded in colours of purple and red, he limped towards the centre, holding a large demonic body.

A demon?

Your blood ran cold.

_ Does he know? _

Involuntary movements pushed your form forward to aid the Slayer. He nodded at you, pleading for you to move out of the way. The energy emanating from the man felt like utter defeat. Melancholy. You’ve never seen someone so strong seem so broken.

You obliged, and followed behind him. Arriving at the med-bay, he placed the large demon upon a bed.

The figure possessed multiple bone-like growths emanating from his vein ridden skull. The horns seemed to weigh down the gorey mass that was his head. It was a disgusting sight. A single eyeball drooped down, attached by only a tendril.

You couldn’t stop staring.

“Y/N? Can you-” Tearing off chunks of his protective gear, he couldn’t finish his sentence as you almost throttled him from the shock. He was covered in deep lacerations. You recognised these kinds of wounds. Argent energy. It bypassed many surfaces, including that of thick metal.

The trained first aid medic within you kicked into gear. Grabbing his blood-soaked forearm, you pulled Flynn towards an unoccupied bed.

“Vega where are your medical supplies, lots of ‘em?”

“The cabinet at the back of this facility.” You thanked the ceiling for a quick response.

“Doctor, you don’t have to, I have the equipment to do it myself. Hun’-” You turned to the Slayer with a menacing stare. You ignored his comments, accessing the cabinet and picking out a number of medical supplies. Grabbing sterilising agents, antibacterial ointment, fresh gauze, and plenty of stitches, you quickly ran back to the injured puppy.

He was barely awake, exhausted from the fighting more than the wounds. You scoffed at the sight. The tales of his grandeur had rung falsehoods at this very moment. Perhaps this was a special occasion, as the demon on the opposite side of the room had formidable form.

Shoving these thoughts away, you had two major lacerations to focus on. His forearm, and his chest. Whilst you were cleaning up the two wounds with extreme care, he lay there motionless with his eyes set on your concentrated face. You worked like you were born to be a healer. Even his gaze couldn't deter your focus.

Covering the arm laceration with an antibacterial ointment, followed by a gauze, you temporarily stopped the bleeding. Moving your focus to the major wound, you sterilised your hands, and the needle that was about to seal the injury.

“Take a deep breath Flynn.” You warned him of the sting that was about to occur.

“I can handle it hun’.” His smirk felt comically off-putting, as your awareness of the next few minutes always told of several unhappy noises. His smirk turned into a grimace, as you pushed the two sides of the wound together to begin stitching.

“Told you. Now take a deep breath.” This order put the Slayer in his place. His chest rose by a couple of inches. Once you were satisfied, the needle poked at his thick skin.

A grunt left Flynn’s lips. Instinctually, you placed your hand on the wound, to calm the sting.

“Sorry.” He continued to stare at you with warm eyes as you apologised. You proceeded with the sealing, pausing every few seconds to let him catch his breath. As his chest rose up and down, your fingers began to tangle between the threads. You didn’t notice the tiny tender looks until you were close to finishing the stitching.

A pink cheeked grin plastered itself on your face. Not knowing how to act, you continued to ignore these stares.

“There. All done with this one. Now, the arm.” Tying off a knot on the stitching, you went to wash and sterilise your equipment once more. His eyes continued to follow you, almost like an expectant puppy. He sat up cautiously, grabbing at the sealed wound.

“Hey, have you washed your hands? Don’t touch it, might get infected.” Your strict voice scolded his careless action. Taking some fresh bandages, you wrapped his torso as carefully as you could. With your faces close, you could feel his breath on your neck. You couldn’t help but trace your fingertips across his sculpted back, sending shivers through his spine, and causing his breath to falter. Your arms wrapped around him, trying to tie off the bandage on his back, as all the hairs on your body suddenly stood.

A strange urge to hold Flynn washed over you. This man, seemingly alone, accompanied by only an A.I. (albeit a calming and friendly one) is the sole man with such a burden of saving humanity. You didn’t understand Sam’s fascination- no. Obsession. Yet you didn’t understand the people’s fear they directed at this prophesied destroyer of Hell either. He looked, and acted, like a normal man. A man with an immeasurable amount of power. But still, a man.

No friends. No family. Simply a purpose. A purpose of sheer destruction and slaughter.

_ Flynn, you poor, cursed soul. _

You threw your arms around him, embracing his injured torso with all your might.

“Woah hun’, you okay?” He returned the favour by pressing your chest closer to his. A heavy head lay on your shoulder. You couldn't pull away as emotional waves swept harder against the shores of your mind. Feeling his heartbeat and the steady rise of the chest, you calmed down, keeping the watery eyes at bay. Attempting to unwrap yourself, you were unsuccessful as he held you tighter than before. This time, for his benefit.

He sighed into your collarbone, letting out a small whimper, and burying his face deeper into the crevice.

Was he crying?

Wriggling your arm, you gently pulled his face away from your neck. A thin stream carried itself steadily from his right eye.

_ A tear. _

Using your thumb to wipe away the clear sorrow, you apologised with an understanding look. Facing down, away from your gaze, his lips curled into a bittersweet smile.

“Sorry.” A chuckle left his lungs. You understood that this man, whilst not entirely dejected and dismissive, will not reveal the reason for his minor breakdown. For you knew the reason already.

“It’s me who should apologise. I practically threw myself onto you.” You decided not to push it. With your forearm still around his neck, you pulled away to fully examine your bandage wrapping skills.

“Usually a guy wouldn't mind such a pretty girl throwing herself at him.” This time with regained composure, his mischievous self returned to the front lines. Giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder, you both grinned at each other.

“Now, your arm, please.” The Slayer outstretched his limb at your command, offering you to examine it. Surprisingly, the gauze was mostly clean. Guessing the blood flow had been successfully paused, you untied the piece of cloth.

“What?” A small shocked gasp left you as you stared at the, now half healed, injury. It looked like a moderate cut instead of a deep laceration. Your medical side of the mind was running amok.

“Hmm? I heal faster than the average human, no need to be startled.” He tried to reassure you, but disbelief at what you’ve just witnessed ran deeper than a simple concern.

“Listen Y/N. It's healed, mostly. I’ll just need a bandage to keep it from bleedin’.” Nodding in agreement, you attempted to dodge your intrusive thoughts.

After a few moments, you finished your first-aid procedure. Exchanging a few looks, he glanced at you meekly.

“I have something to show you. C’mere.” Taking your hand in his, he pulled you through the ship.

The ship was far larger than you expected. Walking through automatic doors, one after the other, you entered a large opening. Stairs littering the sides, you peered at what seemed like the core of the ship. It pulsed like a laboured heart, surging the blue energy throughout the fortress. Contraptions of an extra-terrestrial origin transformed endlessly in order to keep the fuel moving from the core to the body of the structure. The core hummed to itself an eerie song.

_ Is this place alive? _

Flynn tugged at your arm, pulling you behind the large mechanical heart. A door revealed itself to you. Letting go of your arm and placing his on your back, Flynn gently directed you through the opening.

“Welcome to my cave, it ain’t much, but it’s home.”

Your eyes widened in wondrous amazement. A window gazing out into the dark void spread itself across the chamber wall. Stars were coiling and licking at the abyss. A galactic arm of glittering systems and chromatic aberrations, acting as a divine blanket, enrobed the aether. Shrouding the ebony void, nebulae of indigo and royal violet blossomed like a field of peonies. The view was a gorgeous reminder of how truly alone and insignificant compared to the cosmic scale whoever resides here is. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight.

“Like it?” Flynn could notice how awe-stricken you were.

“Yeah…”

Two thrilled sets of crow’s feet wrinkles materialised on the corners of his eyes.

“Come.” Putting pressure on the small of your back, he urged you to move forward into the ‘cave’. His excitement was akin to that of a child, prepared to exhibit his favourite toy to the class during ‘show and tell’.

The room was tidy, if a bit dusty. It had two levels, and a set of smaller stairs to continue below. The first level was a display section. Weapons of familiar origins, UAC standard issue shotguns and plasma rifles, as well as some that were completely alien. This arsenal contained weapons the size of small children. To no surprise, the Slayer’s muscular form could carry more than a small child to battle.

Looking further around, your eyes drifted to something that you parted with many years ago. Flynn let go of your spine, and moved towards a small UAC pistol, engraved and embellished with multiple serial numbers, and silver like decorations. He noticed your stare. Picking the weapon up with care, he directed it to your hands.

“Here, take it. You need to protect yourself when I’m not here.” The Slayer’s smile formed into a frown as he noticed your distant gaze.

“What’s wrong hun’? Don’t like it?”

“No, it’s not that.”

To think that this pistol saved you on multiple occasions from certain demise, and is now returning back to you to protect you once more, brought on a severe wave of depression laced nostalgia. Memories threatened to leave the floodgates, a traumatic past which you suppressed so diligently.

“Flynn, where did you get this?” You wanted to make sure it was the same one, as recollections can muddle memories through in one's mind.

“Hmm. When I woke up. I was trapped in a sarcopha-” Before he could finish the word, you realised that what he was holding was a relic of your past. Your first encounter with Flynn.

“Sarcophagus in the UAC Argent Energy Facility. On Mars. I know. You found the pistol beside your tomb. I left it there,” your eyes met his, “after I gave you a stimulant to wake you from your sleep.” The Slayer stared at you with pure shock. You couldn’t describe the feeling surging through you. Moments of silence passed. Two hot hands engulfed yours, softly squeezing them affectionately.

“You-you helped me. You got me out of there and gave me a chance to fight back. Thank you.” The sincerity and warmth of his tone made your lips curl into a pleased grin. With this small gesture, he let go of your hands and placed a warm palm on your shoulder, once again thanking you for your actions on Mars.

“Don’t mention it. It was part of my job. Sam actually coordinated me to you, along with Vega.” Flynn’s expression soured instantly at the mention of Hayden’s name. His displeasure and hatred of the man was obvious, yet you had no clue why. Though his morals and actions may be questionable, he had no quarrel with the Slayer. In fact, Hayden deified, almost worshipped him.

You both stood, watching each other’s movements. Breathing, and listening. Your arm inched towards the pistol, causing a static shiver to travel up your limb.

“I thought I’ll never see this again. It helped me get to you. I hope it helped you just as much.” You grimaced at him, finally letting the memories fill your addled mind. Finally, you picked up the relic. Cyan like energy pulsed through the pistol, moving smoothly through to the muzzle, ready to fire. You noticed dozens of deep scratch marks, proof of frequent use. A melancholic smile spread across your mouth.

“Well, you can have it back now. I have plenty of arms to protect myself. That baby saw to it that I got out of Mars alive. Love that damn thing.” Flynn urged you to take it.

Happy as ever, the man ruffled your hair with a beaming smile. Realising your position, being so short compared to the hulking 6ft5 demon-slaying machine, you wafted his arm away. You chuckled warmly at his attempt to tease you.

Curiosity spread through you as you noticed a vast station of mechanical parts, and disassembled armour pieces.

“Oh, right. C’mere.” Flynn placed his arm around your hip, guiding you to the bottom level of the chamber.

Dozens of tools, metallic chunks, and pieces of protective suits were littered across the workbench. A large set of armour lay there, deconstructed. Realising that the same armour was found in Hell before the UAC recovered it, you began to ponder whether the Slayer’s skills in mechanical engineering were far more advanced than he let on.

“Did you build your armour?” Your curiosity overwhelmed you.

“Just improved it. My current praetor suit is made up of parts from my previous one.”

A bizarre jolt travelled through your spine. Countless questions had invaded your thoughts. If he was so skilful with his armour, that not even the best UAC engineers could decipher, then why did he need your help with rebuilding Hayden? Wasn’t the knowledge involved with a praetor suit far more advanced than the knowledge of Hayden’s body? In fact, Sam had given schematics to Vega, which they could’ve easily translated to create easy instructions. Though it is true, the average ARC personnel couldn’t fathom Samuel’s structure, the Slayer was no average man. None of this made sense.

Paranoia. It set in like an unstoppable tide. A waterfall.

You felt safe around him. But your purpose here was once again, unclear. You wanted answers. Fast.

Your thoughts running rampant, you pulled his arm closer, veering him to look at you with piercing eyes.

“Why am I here?” A trembling voice left your throat. Anger threatening to escape, you pushed down the lump that formed in your trachea.

You both gawked at each other, once again letting moments pass. His eyebrows crinkled. You could almost hear the gears and cogs twisting and turning inside his mind, attempting to form an answer that you would be pleased with. Yanking his appendage away, he turned towards the breathtaking view of the cosmic void.

“After Vega’s destruction on Mars, the data backup was incomplete. He… lost some of his memory. You’re the last being with the schematics.” Again, a painful silence shrouded the room. You couldn’t help but think that his answer was laced with lies.

“Samuel is conscious. He could tell you. Besides, what would his survival mean to you? You clearly hate the man. Why not get the information you need and throw him out the airlock?” Your temperamental character, a forceful personality you adopted from Hayden, was threatening to leave. Flynn was clearly struggling for words. Turning back to you, his expression was one of annoyance and anger.

_ Shit. _

“You want to leave? The portal is right there hun’. No one is stopping you. Just know that I have my reasons for needing you here. I don’t know how to explain them without seeming crazy, but I need you here.” Annoyance suddenly turned to pleading. He was tired. You could tell.

“Try me.” You wanted to understand. You wanted to know.

Flynn’s usual demeanour, the confident warrior, seemed to slip away into an exhausted man. His light brown eyelashes drooped. His muscular shoulders no longer portrayed the epitome of the prophesied Doom Slayer. The usually tense neck, now sloped downwards, letting his head hang pathetically. Even the colour of his skin became paler, his tanned chest now a desaturated bisque shade. You felt sorry for him. The visage before you was a man drained of life. It reminded you of when he first came back with the faceless demon strung across his spine. A sad, defeated being.

As you remembered the mangled corpse of the Marauder, your muscles tensed to the point of cramping. A piercing crashing noise left the corner of the ship where the medical bay stood.

“What was that?” Your quivering voice shot out of your throat. Adrenaline began to pump through you like blood. Flynn’s fatigued attitude fizzed away, as his protective instincts kicked in.

“Vega, buddy. Scan the med-bay.” He commanded with a leader’s tone. You realised that you were gripping your pistol with all your vigour which sat in your right pocket. Deciding to take it out and ready yourself for whatever was to transpire, you took a shallow, anxious breath.

“The medical bay contains no life forms. The demonic presence is also not present.”

Your veins became icy cold. The pit in your stomach had become heavier, and the lump in your throat was substantially larger than before.

The Slayer readied his trusty double barrel which sat atop the shelf, grabbing any protection he could muster. His scarred brow furrowed with wrath and concentration, preparing his battle stance. You noticed that every single movement he made was to stand between you, and immediate danger. Flynn wasn’t going to let anything hurt you.

As the rattling became louder, the tense atmosphere within the chamber was almost palpable.

Your hand was barely gripping the tiny pistol as it slid from the sweat on your palms.

You could sense it.

You could  _ smell  _ it.

  
Something-no.  _ Someone _ was behind that damned door...


	7. Diabolus

A vast Colosseum of torrential crowds and reverberating screeches surpassed his eardrums with a dizzying wave. Flynn could almost feel his mind becoming scattered again. The noise, the vibrations of a stomping crowd, the moans of the beaten and the broken. It was all too much to bear. The blood dripping from his newly formed wound on the brow stung with a searing white heat, like salt entering a fresh cut. He couldn’t focus. Vision blurring in and out of sight, confusion set in.

Left hook swing. A body dropped to the cold sand of the Colosseum.

Right leg kick. Another body toppled to the ground.

Right arm strikes to the gut. Rain of brilliant scarlet blood coloured his vision.

The smell of iron filled his senses. Adrenaline and instinct were the only things fueling his violent rampage. Though he had no wish to fight, his reflexes screamed at him to keep the aggression going.

Left leg stomp. Sounds of fragmented bone splintering into a thousand pieces invaded the air.

Right arm hook to the jaw. A sickening serenade of shattering teeth followed by the whaling cries of a tortured combatant.

Left knee kick to the hip. Another victim fell to the ground, begging to be released from this unfair fight.

Ragged shallow breaths left his lungs. His addled mind was running amok.

_ Must… warn them… _

Knuckles grazing and battering tender flesh to a pulp, Flynn had no recollection of how he got to this accursed place. All he knew was that if he does not fight, he will die.

As the final combatant was knocked unconscious, he fell to his knees, a victor to this savage battle. Countless bodies lay, defeated, in pools of their own lifeblood. His vision began to blur once again. The blood dripping from his brow stung more and more by the second. Inhalation to his lungs became difficult, as he wheezed the smell of iron away. Bile threatened to shoot up at the realisation of his surroundings.

_ People. Demons. I must warn them... _

Silhouettes began to drag at his arms, pulling him up from his pathetic posture. An elder man, fragile yet tall and proud, offered a shoulder to lean on whilst murmuring with bated breath in an unfamiliar tongue. Flynn gladly accepted. With anxiety building, his exhalation became more rapid.

“You must know. They’re coming. Please… listen… the demons-” With a wave of the Priest’s arm, he shut Flynn up. A strange harsh language began to ring. It emitted a barbarous yet honourable tone, leaving Flynn confused. The man’s words hung in the air, meaning nothing to the victorious combatant.

He limped towards the exit, still holding onto the elder’s shoulders. It was the only sliver of comfort he was offered, and no way in hell was he going to refuse after the nightmares he had witnessed.

Another man crawled towards the passage. A chestnut haired youth, persevered for a chance at survival. Slithering with all his might, he impressed the elder. The Priest pointed a gnarly twig of a finger at the youth. Two armoured soldiers, emitting cyan phosphorescence, dragged the chestnut haired man. They were not gentle.

He felt dejected. Flynn had nowhere to go. Nowhere to turn to. He was in an alien land, with no knowledge of their traditions or language.

So much to live for, yet so little chance to fulfil his purpose and wishes. It felt like he was the original twenty one year old on Phobos, fighting back hordes of abominations. Yet at the same time, he was thousands of years old, battling against those same monstrosities in Hell itself.

And now? Here… Whatever this place is, it's not good. Nevertheless, he needs to warn them. To let them know. These fiends had no mercy. And they will flow in through the gates like an unstoppable tsunami of suffering flesh.

As they entered the exit, a row of marble pews were set beside a few stained glass windows. The stained glass was adorned with images of proud warriors, holding their entire honour within their arms, cradling large energy swords with carefully crafted sheathes. Each warrior held a different blade, indicating some importance to the unique craftsmanship. A rare tranquility washed over the man. The rainbow colours emitting from the windows caressed at his bruised skin. Peace. After so much violence, he finally felt at peace.

Flynn was directed to the white pews, the Priest urging him to take a seat next to the chestnut haired youth. Plopping his heavy frame on the marble, he noticed another figure within the stained glass. An angel like depiction, ivory and gold, spread its wings, reveling in its might and royalty. Embellished in a union of technology and flesh, it smiled a scheming smirk.

Noticing the youth, he turned his aching neck to the man. Two icy cerulean eyes stared back in pain. Unable to talk, they both ogled at each other. The language barrier was agony. He wanted to warn them, but nothing he said made sense to these people.

Flynn had no choice but to begin with introductions. Names were a border between two people. Once one exchanges their identity, understanding and trust can begin to blossom. With a bruised arm, he pointed towards his chest where the heart is.

“Flynn. Taggart.”

The tanned youth opposite himself continued to stare. Confusion was evident in his face. He was clearly lost, though Flynn wasn’t sure if this was from the language barrier or the concussion this man possibly suffered.

“Flynn… Taggart?” A hand outstretched shakily towards Flynn’s breast. Finger prodding, the youth raised an eyebrow. As if to confirm, Flynn nodded, and repeated his name, pointing at himself again.

“Flynn Taggart.” This time, with a hint of hope, the youth proclaimed Flynn’s name, heavy accent included.

_ Finally. Some progress. _

Eager to find out the youth’s name, he shoved his finger at the man’s bloodied chest, smearing the liquid further across. Flynn had a pleading expression, begging for some understanding.

“Hmm… Teivel.” A harsh accent, yet smooth like rich coffee, flowed in the incense heavy air. Something lifted inside of Flynn’s soul.

“Teivel?”

A singular verification of the name was all that was needed to form an instant bond between the two combatants. Voluminous grins were plastered across their faces, followed by gleeful chortling. They both slapped each other's shoulders.

A confirmation of a new friendship.

_ Finally. Someone who understands. _

…

Two sanguine glowing eyes hung from tendrils that clung to a gorey mass which once was the Marauder’s face. The sickly sweet smell of rot penetrated your nostrils, making you want to chunder your waffle breakfast onto the ground. You were still sweating, shaking. The pistol you held, muzzle pointing towards the demon, was eager to fire. Flynn was shielding you with his frame, trying to keep you out of harm's way.

The sputtering and gurgling that escaped the demon’s throat was vile. Each gore filled noise sounded increasingly desperate. Before the Marauder could sputter another noise, it dropped to the floor, rag-dolling pathetically. Still cautious, the Slayer prodded at the body with his foot. You both looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

“What just happened?” Flynn seemed perplexed. His gaze was distant, upset almost.

“You ok?” Your motherly instincts kicked in. Unease was forging fires in the pit of your stomach.

“He was… a friend.” Grabbing the body, he carried it back to the medical bay. Confusion and dread were a tempestuous storm brewing within the atmosphere. Though it was for different reasons between the both of you.

_ God, I hope he doesn’t find out. _

Following close behind, you could feel the tension.

“Dr. Y/N. Slayer. It is to my understanding that the Marauder draws energy from the fortress to fuel his regenerative powers. Perhaps keeping the demonic threat within the Ripatorium is a sound solution.” Vega’s resonating calm voice suggested a possibility you simply could not ignore. Whatever the 'Ripatorium' was, it was safer than the medical bay.

“Flynn, I think he’s right. I’ve-” You bit your tongue. The sentence threatened to escape your vocal chords.

_ If he finds out… _

The Slayer, curious of your abrupt pause, turned to look down, deep into your eyes. It was obvious that he was still angry. Annoyed at your previous conversation. And this wasn’t helping one bit. Ignoring Vega’s suggestion, Flynn continued to stomp down the hall to the med-bay. Where the body previously lay, a lake of deep amethyst blood pooled around the bed. Out of respect for his deceased comrade, Flynn carefully placed the body back onto its resting place.

You had to soften the blow.

“I-we studied demons when we were stuck inside the ARC HQ. We had to find their weaknesses, to hit them where it hurts.” Flynn turned to you, scarred eyebrow furrowed, awaiting your next sentence.

“It turns out, they draw power from Argent energy to regenerate their damaged bodies. They never truly die. They’re simply temporarily disconnected. Like technology, without a power source, tech shuts down, and resumes working when connected to the source again.” You suddenly realised what this meant. Whilst trying to answer Flynn’s questioning looks, you answered your own questions.

_ This ship IS alive. _

“I know,” his lips parted, he gave a pleased smirk in your direction, “you’re smart hun’, you know that?” Not knowing how to respond, your awkwardness flared, causing you to trip up and stumble over your feet. He seemed to like teasing you. Your reaction cheered him up.

The tension thick air lightened, though not to the extent of relaxation.

Without a single word, Flynn placed a mourning palm upon the demon’s chest where a glowing light pulsated.

“Aesh dok vesek.” These words flowed with such sorrow, such guilt, you could barely hold in the urge to embrace the mourning man. Though you had no knowledge of the language Flynn was vocalising, it was too heartfelt to not understand the sentiment.

It was an apology.

Regret.

Grief.

A knot tied itself around your heart. You had to say something to ease this anxiety.

“I’m sorry.” Your lips, chapped, cracked under the pressure.

Two little words.

Not for Flynn.

But for the demon.

“I’m sorry.”

…

“That’s not right. He’s not responding. Crank up the voltage. Open the third valve.” Olivia’s eager voice threw you off guard. You ended up spacing out, staring at the giant horned menace in front of you. The data-pad you held was slipping away, slowly, from the sweat droplets your palms began to form.

You couldn’t get used to the job. Hayden insisted you were Dr. Pierce’s second. A mere UAC recruit. And yet, you had the power which many had dreamed to acquire throughout their lifetime. You should be pleased.

“Well? Hurry it up.” Olivia’s voice once again jabbed your eardrums. Her British accent further solidified that she was playing up the scary scientist act.

“Sorry, right away.” You were sure she hated you. Dr. Hayden demoted her previous second, meaning once she's away, Project Lazarus is to be in your hands. Prodding at the valve wheel, you heard a light, satisfying pop. Cyan energy rushed through the pipe into the pod containing a grotesque abomination.

To think this was once a human? Impossible. Though the demon certainly had human features, the augmentations that were caused from hell’s exposure were too inhuman. Two sets of horns were jutting out of his head, weighing the skull down. Violet veins spread like a poison from the heart. The skin on his face had deteriorated to the point of sinking into the bone, merging and rotting uncontrollably. His lips had completely vanished, revealing a set of serrated blade teeth. Even the eyelids had decayed. This kept you on your toes, constantly alert and afraid, as the demon glared with his dull, empty eyes.

“Wait. Did you see that, Dr. Y/N? Look!” This was the first time she used your name. Perhaps she was warming up to you? Propelling these thoughts away, you turned towards what was important. The towering demon which was floating within the pod, appeared to twitch and convulse violently. Every fibre of his being was in severe agony. It was as if his body was being struck by lightning, over and over again.

“Decrease the voltage immediately!” Your boss was becoming desperate. Your fingers veered towards multiple buttons whilst you exhaled anxious breaths. It didn’t work.

“Flush the bloody tank, we can’t lose another specimen. Now!” Your spine tensed. It seemed your figure was cramping. Running to the release lever, you pushed it downwards, letting all liquified argent energy escape through a drain.

As the cocktail of preservative liquids left, the demon tumbled to the bottom of the tube helplessly.

_ Sigh. _

“Check his vitals, we must not let this one perish.” A heavy sigh left your lungs as Olivia kept pushing you around. You obeyed, as one would, trying to avoid conflict with the feisty woman. A large holographic display appeared in front of the tube as you approached the demonic form.

“Pulse optimal, brain activity in perfect condition. He’s… dreaming.” Your smile could not be contained. With the demon’s mind still functional, this is the first hellified sentinel you were able to capture fully intact. And this one was unique. Not like the others. He carried the symbol which you were haunted by for years. Ever since you could remember. A flashing sigil burned into the core of your soul.

It seems like you were getting your answers after all.

“Congratulations. So… Dr. Y/N. You want to name him? You kept him alive, why not give him a new identity? For the file report, I mean. It’s your choice.” A malevolent smirk formed on Pierce’s askew face. You felt a strange coldness from the woman. However, excitement had overtaken the unease in your mind.

Thousand’s of names rushed in. Perhaps a Latin name, to match the demon’s hellish origin? Diabolus? Malum? What about a symbolic title? The Ghost? The Crusader? The Barbarian? The-

“Marauder.”

“Interesting. And fitting. I like it.” Pierce slapped your upper back, indicating a job well-done. You felt proud. Your first discovery on the job, and it was a damn good one. Dr. Hayden will be pleased. You’ll be a favourite in no time.

Curiosity ever-increasing, you stood opposite the pod, arms flush against the glass. A flopped demon lay within.

The Marauder.

Your new project.

An alien from a foreign world, carrying secrets beyond your imagination.

If humanity is to advance, it must take whatever it can get. Argent included. And with this hellified Sentinel, humanity will go far indeed.

The corners of your lips turned upwards into a sinister, malicious grin.


	8. Trinitas

The change in aura of the medical bay was jarring. It seemed like you were on a museum tour of every single possible human emotion to ever exist. In the past few hours you were angry, worried, scared, amazed, and even… enamoured? And the fact that Flynn hasn’t kicked you out for your unscrupulous behaviour is just as astonishing as the invasion itself. You were grateful, but…

A pang of bittersweetness sunk its teeth into your core. You treated this man with disdain, without respect. You always made assumptions.

Flynn had a weary look about him, exhausted both physically and mentally. He didn’t deserve your sour outbreaks. However the small tender gestures he directed at you, the softness of his speech. Even his protective stance, stationed between you and the demon that now lay before your eyes. Why was he so accepting and friendly towards you when you showed nothing but distrust and anger towards him? These displays of care manifested something strange within you.

A soft sound began resonating, flicking you back to reality.

“I will keep an eye on our occupant. Should the demonic presence awaken, I will notify you both immediately. Meanwhile, the data provided by Dr. Hayden on the whereabouts of the final Hell Priest will take approximately three hours to decrypt. The data was scattered, and collected from multiple sources. I suggest you both rest. Food, and a relaxing, recreational activity is recommended.” Vega’s voice was laced with a wholesome, caring tone. Of course, he was an artificial intelligence which passed the famous Turing Test. Yet it still unnerved you at how human he can sound. The slight sighs, the tiny huffs, and the warm helping tone when suggesting useful advice. It’s almost as if he was the father figure you never had. Hayden could never compare.

“Thanks buddy, we’ll do that.” Flynn turned to you, his hand still placed on the demon’s chest, “ You want some pizza? Watch a movie or something?” His eyes lit up with childlike hope.

“Like a slumber party? You mad? I need to finish Sam’s body or he’ll be legless for at least a century at this pace.” Suppressing a laugh through gritted teeth, you noticed Flynn’s puppy-eyed pleading look burn into your brain.

_Fuck, how can I refuse that face?_

You sighed, pushing away any thoughts of rejecting the adorable display before you.

“Fine, but I get to work on Sam whilst we eat pizza and let the movie play. Sound like a fair plan?” Your proposition made the man almost squeal in contentment. His demeanour turned from a heavy shouldered exhausted soldier, to an ecstatic dorky kid. A warmness began to build in your abdomen. The mischievous child-like excitement that the man resonated made the butterflies in your stomach go feral. Every thought in your mind was replaced with two questions:

_Why is he so friendly? How can I apologise to him?_

You couldn't understand these feelings. Gratefulness seemed like the emotion that made the most sense. Yet there was something else. Something more.

Seeing his affectionate eyes, the playful wave of hair, his sheer overwhelming height… He was simply a dorky, attractive guy. Your mind was in pieces.

With these questions and emotions littering in your thoughts, you noticed how Flynn's gold speckled greenish eyes drifted towards the exit of the medical bay. You got the hint.

Moving with feline grace, Flynn strode out of the doors, ushering you to follow. As you both weaved in and out of a labyrinth of doors, you arrived at your corner of the fortress. Samuel's body hung gracefully inside of an energy stream, levitating with ease. Flynn's expression instantly changed into displeasure. Samuel's presence was clearly unwanted.

"I'm going to grab whatever you need to work on Hayden. You grab that hunk of metal. Ok hun'?" Flynn pointed towards Sam. You smiled in agreement, taking the fragile 'hunk of metal' into your arms. He was surprisingly light, for something that should carry vital mechanisms in a cyborg… including his partial brain.

"Sam? I'm going to disconnect you from the mainframe. We're moving you to another part of the ship, so you'll go dark for a couple of minutes." You reassured the man.

No reply.

Where Hayden is usually talkative, with many opinions he loves to shove down everyone's throats, he had not replied this time.

"Sam? Is something wrong?" Worry threatened to escape your throat. Hayden taught you to never show weakness, to stay calm and collected in even the gravest of situations. Yet your temperamental nature was untameable.

Once again. No reply.

"You worry too much. He's probably too busy computing pi or something." Flynn's comedic tone seemed to calm a small fraction of your mind. You gripped the torso tighter.

You both walked towards the left of Flynn's quarters, walking outside of the skull embellished doors. A small gasp escaped your lungs as you instinctively grabbed at Flynn's naked tricep for comfort.

You were outside. In the vacuum of space. Open air, nothing but the abyss below your feet. Your fingers went numb, tingling and forming cold sweat.

"Don't worry hun'. Energy shield, see?" His voice passed through deaf ears as you kept unknowingly grasping tighter and tighter onto the muscle.

Countless twinkling stars greeted you. It would've looked majestic if not for the harrowing view of a flame engulfed Earth that spread beneath you. Sigils incinerated onto the surface of the planet glowed brighter than any star in the sky.

"C'mon, let's go." His command once again fell flat. You were paralysed. Latched onto his now blue skin, your fingernails dug deeper into the muscle. Moments of silence passed. Two hazel eyes peered at you, confused. You could almost hear Flynn thinking, turning pages in his mental book.

He moved swiftly, suddenly hooking his arms around the back of your knees and your spine. Flipping you sideways, you were propped against his chest, alongside Sam's mangled leftovers still in the tight grip of your hand. The fingers on your other hand were this time glued onto his collarbone. He accepted the fact that you were in shock, and continued with you in his arms. Your view seemed to be now obscured by his jawline, causing a wave of tranquility to wash over you.

You closed your eyes. Content. Warm. Held.

Even the feeling of his breath on your ear calmed every flame into a mere ember.

"Thank you… Flynn. I've never seen this kind of shield before. I don't think it's even visible… is it?" Asking the question, you opened your eyes to surprisingly meet his. The proximity of your faces was astonishingly low. You could see his every pore, the slight five o’clock shadow slipping through onto the surface of his face, and the deep scar along his thick unruly brow. Even the handsome smile that caused crinkles to form on the corners of his features was bright as day. A heat began to rise within your belly. Grasping at his collarbone tighter, you turned away from his somewhat longing gaze.

_What the hell is wrong with me? Stop thinking about this for crying out loud._

"Invisible, yeah. Let's just say I like the view." He kept his gaze fixated on you, observing your flustered expression with locked eyes.

_What's that supposed to mean?_

"Right hun'. We're here. No big scary vacuum of space to suck ya out." A sideways smirk continued to grow on his visage. With a wink, he turned your form to stand on your now less shaky feet. You let go of his collarbone, still standing relatively close to his frame.

"I gotta go pick up your tools, you go up those stairs. Here's the key. Get comfortable, hmm?" Another wink glazed past. The man quickly left, casually walking out into the onyx void. You shuddered, yet couldn't stop ogling. The effortless grace with which he moved kept you staring for an excruciatingly long time.

"Dr. Y/N, perhaps you'd like assistance with setting up your station?" That familiar, calming voice seemed to rescue you at the perfect moment.

"Vega! Yes. Please. Thanks. Ahem."

"This way, Doctor." Your tingling arms relaxed, and you turned towards the inside of the chamber. A minuscule, lily-ridden pond was dead centre of the room. It emitted a pleasant, yet cold light. The view before you was a wonderful change from the constant blue phosphorus glow within the main fortress. Stained glass windows peered out into dark space. Depictions of warriors you've seen before, cradling powerful crucibles, each unique to the knight. Symbols and sigils you've witnessed in your lucid terrors were a very prominent sight as well. A beautiful view, to say the least.

Two sets of gold glazed stairs sat at either side of the pond, creating an illusion of extreme importance. Perhaps these were the Captain's quarters once? Your feet scraped, cautiously, towards the upper level. A large door with a bizarre keyhole seemed to almost materialise before you. The key that the Slayer placed into your palm had an eccentric shape. It was formed like a helix, a DNA strand, with encrusted violet amethysts along the bow of the key. It was gorgeous craftsmanship, delicate in every way possible. The ridges, sharp like serrated blades, indicated lack of use.

Your stomach sank slightly, anticipating whatever was behind the door. Gently twisting the helix inside in a corkscrew motion, you felt a satisfying click of the lock unhinging. Dust filled your vision, as decades of stale air flooded your lungs. The door creaked, swinging open. Your jaw dropped in a similar motion.

Countless posters, ancient pieces of technology, and pillows were carelessly tossed within the chamber. You've seen DVD's and VHS tapes before, but only in old commercials and history books. This was a museum. Filled with artifacts, treasures lost to the modern world. You felt honoured to be able to even glance at these fossils. Video games were the main focus inside the room, unveiling a giant desk buried with collectables and random memorabilia.

“What a nerd.” Swallowing a giggle, you proceeded to look around the chambers.

“The Slayer rarely enters these quarters. He has not explained why. Though I have detected a decreased production of dopamine and serotonin, as well as increased production levels of monoamine oxidase A within his system whenever he approaches the room.” The tone of Vega’s voice was one of concern. He was… distressed. Flynn and Vega seemed to be close. You admired their bond, as two unlikely brothers, fighting for humanity’s survival in their own way (even if one was programmed to do so).

“He gets upset, hmm, his anxiety flares up. Why did he want to come here then?”

“I do not have an answer for that. Flynn is under a substantial amount of stress. Physically and mentally. I was hoping a human presence would help improve his stability. Your presence, as well as skills, are important. Please Dr. Y/N, any kind of positive communication will help.” The pleading timbre that resonated from the walls made the hairs on the nape of your neck stand.

Vega cared deeply for this man. You felt true emotion coming from his voice. The time you spent on Mars, working with Olivia and having Vega at your disposal, you never had the chance to fully converse with the A.I. The sheer admiration and worry he portrayed caught you by surprise in more ways than one.

The first thing you noticed was that this was the first time Vega called Flynn by his name. Did that mean the A.I. was capable of distrust? Have you earned it? Or is he still hiding things from you? The second thing you noticed was that you were needed for more than just your scientific knowledge and Hayden’s schematics. You were the only other human on this ship. A friend. A physical presence rather than a disembodied voice.

An idea sprung to mind.

_Yes. Project number two. Project Vega. You'll have more than one physical friend soon, Flynn._

Your mind daydreaming with possibilities, you continued to look around the chaotic chamber.

A picture frame yanked your attention. It stood alone, seperate from the organised chaos. Approaching it, your eyes focused on the subject. It was a woman, hugging two creatures; a small child which in turn cradled a tiny fluffy bunny of chestnutty ginger fur. They seemed like a joyful family. Your fingers wrapped around the wooden frame, making sure to grasp it tightly, in case your butterfinger-awkward self returned. Drawing the picture closer to your eyes, you noticed that the child had a peculiarly familiar face. The child's face was that of a fleeting dream, you could barely remember it, yet it still hung around in the back of your mind. Taunting you. The broad smile plastered on the kid's visage felt so surreal. A smile that leaked the pure essence of happiness. Such genuine contentment was the only true ancient artifact you could find within the room.

You were lost in thought, your mind creating a disastrous dish of bitterness. A pang of jealousy, with a pinch of sadness, and perhaps a sprinkle of guilt?

Why jealousy? You never had a family, nor a past. It always haunted you, like a sleep paralysis terror standing over your bed, staring at you with two cold, lifeless eyes every night you lay awake.

Sadness? Countless families have perished. Countless animals, children, parents. None of them will experience such pure joy that the family in the picture seems to possess.

And guilt? You never got to save them. That little boy, affectionately cradling a small bunny, burying his cheek into the fur, is most likely gone. The woman, with long luxurious locks of ash blonde hair, will never be able to embrace her family like she had within the frame.

_Such is the burden of a leader… Damn you Hayden. All I’ve done, all I’ve witnessed, and I couldn’t stop it._

"Hey, got your stuff. Including some Gulami's. Whatcha holding there hun'?" Flynn, now wore a new pair of tracksuit pants, yet kept his chest exposed, showing off your masterful bandage skills. The cloth that covered his laceration wounds was damp however, gleaming and glistening in the soft ivory light of the room.

"Did you make pizza AND take a shower?" It seemed you have stood there for longer than a few minutes, staring at the melancholic image in your hand. Flynn's hair was partially dried from a fresh shower, and he smelled sweetly of woody aromas. It was a pleasant scent.

"Yeah, thought I needed to freshen up for our date."

"I-what?" You stood with your mouth agape, bewildered at what you just heard.

"What? So whatcha holdin' there?" Nonchalant as ever, he dodged the conversation like a true professional. Still caught up in your confusion, you shoved the picture towards the man before you.

"Oh. That." The expression on his face was difficult to read. Though you could tell it wasn't a pleasant reaction, as his pupils instantly contracted. With an almost violent instinct, you had to resist the urge to comfort him.

It suddenly hit you like a tonne of bricks. The child's smile mirrored that of Flynn's toothy grin whenever he managed to embarrass you, or make you have a positive reaction to something trivial. The dark blond haired youth was a reflection of what Flynn's old life was. Happy, and full of love.

"Is that… your mother? She's very beautiful." Attempting to end the silence, you snapped the man out of his thoughts. His expression scrunched the corners of his eyes, turning vibrant irises into two dull spheres. It was clear he was reminiscing of a better time.

"Yeah. That she was."

"And the little ball of fur there?" You asked for more details, attempting to keep him engaged in conversation. You were curious, maybe overly nosey. But you couldn't help your nature.

"Daisy." A small voice left his throat. It was so unlike him, being this quiet. The pit in your stomach was getting deeper and heavier.

"Daisy? That's really sweet, you named her?"

"Yeah." There it was again. A small, quiet voice. His fingers grasped tightly around the frame, clenching just enough to hear the wood crackle under the pressure. The noise the frame emitted was deafening inside of the silent chambers. Fidgeting, his nails dug deeper into the wood, splintering the frayed corners of the frame. He was in distress.

You've pushed too far.

Again.

"So, pizza? Movies? Date?" Swiftly grabbing the picture away from his hand, you delicately placed your fingers in its place, giving the Slayer a well needed reassuring palm squeeze. Your fingers entangled momentarily. His smile returned, this time only engaging his lips in the expression, curling them with some resistance. The eyes stayed sorrowful. Lashes hung low, keeping his vision down to his feet. It was the face of a mournful man.

_I shouldn't have brought any of this up. Damn it._

"Can I ask you something?" You bit your lip, wondering if asking anything will drag him out of his slump.

"Anything, anytime." To your surprise, he made an awfully quick recovery from his previous emotional state. It was that, or he was an expert actor. His eyes now returning to their original gleam, the green speckles appeared almost acidic in the soft light. An intensity you could barely describe had grabbed a hold of you, admiring the colours that danced within his iris. You smiled and parted your lips.

"Well, this is certainly a nice room. Things here are centuries old. You have an entire museum in here. Raid one, by any chance?" You asked with a mischief laced tone. Flynn rewarded you with a warm chuckle, a husky low sound reverberating pleasantly inside your ears.

"Long story short, I'm old."

"A couple of centuries?" With that question, Flynn's face contorted into an expression of surprise.

"You're not shocked? No compliments or even objections? I'm wounded, my lady." Grabbing at his chest, he feigned an aching heart, face scrunching with excruciating agony.

"Well, back when I worked for the UAC, we studied your history from monoliths in the Kadingir Sanctum where we found you. We had our theories, but I'd be curious to find out from the man himself. A reliable source."

"Hmm, you're forgiven," he winked, giving you a sideways smile, "In that case, I don't really know what my age is. All I know is, I'm old enough to buy and drink whiskey without supervision. Hell tends to manipulate time. Distort it. A minute in Hell may as well be a decade on Earth."

"I guess that's fair." Satisfied with his answer, you grabbed a hold of the pizza box behind Flynn, and directed it towards his maw. A delicious scent of pepperoni and BBQ began to glide into your nostrils, flooding your mouth with saliva. You witnessed his pupils dilate from the smell, creating an endearing view of a hungry cat spotting its meal. Flynn winked once again, and readied to tidy and prep the 'date'.

"Right, let's set-up, then."

The room was transformed in mere seconds, with two determined forces whizzing away at the speed of light, placing objects into their rightful corners. You shoved Sam inside of an energy beam, powered by argent. The lights flickered momentarily, causing you to shiver at the sheer thought of a power cut in outer space. Vega started up multiple pieces of tech, keeping things calibrated with a complex accuracy. Flynn was a focused panther, stalking every piece of furniture into submission. Every object here had a place. The three of you made an effective team.

An artificial intelligence, an ex-UAC scientist, and an all powerful Demon Slayer. You were part of an unlikely squad.

Within moments, you had a small desk prepared for you, and plenty of space on a stack of pillows to rest your aching spine. Flynn already helped himself to the pizza, gobbling down a slice in a mere two bites. You stared, gawking at the devouring machine, with complete and utter astonishment.

“Err… impressive?” Stifling a laugh, you proceeded to try and do the same.

“Woah.” He returned the stare, impressed and astounded at the un-lady-like display before him.

“What? I’m hungry.”

A roaring laughter shrouded the gloomy view of Earth below you. Momentarily, your world was filled with joy. The same joy you craved. The same joy Flynn’s family had in that small, framed memento. You seemed to forget your worries, all of your aches had diminished. A false veil of security and merriment. The nostalgia that filled your tormented mind was overwhelming. But it wasn’t true nostalgia. Nostalgia is a longing for your past. The grass that is always greener on the other side. You had no past. This was something different. A feeling that this very moment, this chaotic, cheerful howling, will become a nostalgic moment.

You never wanted it to end.

For the first time in months, you were beaming, grinning like a child, with not a single care in the universe.


	9. Morphology

“Y/N, we need to talk.” A harsh metallic resonation escaped the walls.

“Hayden? Where have you been all this time?” Your voice filled with concern, you heard a low malevolent chuckle. He was mocking you.

For the past three hours, Flynn graced you with his presence, talking away about minuscule topics, just as old friends would. Surrounded by food, a surprisingly good ancient movie about an apocalyptic cyborg assassin from the year 2029, and infinite bouts of laughter. You had the time of your life. All your worries diminished into a mere glimpse of a nightmare. And yet, Sam’s disappearance still concerned you. In every way possible, he would ruin something you enjoyed. No matter what you did, he always stood in the way.

_ Heh… ‘stood’... _

“Could’ve talked earlier.” Your tone was venomous.

“He was in the way. We need privacy.”

“So talk.” Crossing your arms, you cast an enraged eye at the body that hung before you. You had begun to implement his ‘femur’, connecting the structure that would soon keep him on his feet. Countless wires were protruding, growing out of his torso like the tendrils from a trailing ivy plant. You suddenly had the vile urge to yank everything out and toss him aside like the rag doll he was.

“Does he know?” Your blood went icy cold. Hayden’s question caused your knees to violently buckle.

“About what?” Of course you knew exactly what he was talking about. You were a UAC scientist. It was your job. You had no choice. No luxury of choosing.

“Our work.” Just as you expected, Hayden slyfully deflected the question with an unclear answer. He expected you to clarify what the answer was meant to be. 

You turned to face away from his body. The ravaged pizza box lay on dozens of pillows, tossed aside carelessly during a maniacal laughing fit that you and Flynn had engaged in. A static sound was emitted from the cuboid TV box placed atop the VHS tape player, causing you to reminisce of a better time just a few minutes ago. Anxiety was building at the thought of the moment’s passing. The room was a perfect still image of your ideal day. If Flynn found out, if Flynn somehow snuffed you out, this blissful moment of joy would be but a distant feverish dream.

Numerous sins you’ve committed began to plague you. Projects you’ve worked on, people you’ve betrayed. You licked your chapped lips, attempting to form a coherent thought.

“Which project?” Your voice cracked, vengeful in its tone. The resentful anger you possessed was a dangerous chemical reaction, ready to split atoms.

“The two classified projects. You were their lead. Remember? Or has being part of the UAC gone to your head already?” Sam always knew where to hit if he needed a reaction. He was a diabolical character, with too many toxic traits. Somehow, you still viewed him as your friend. Perhaps even a father figure. The small fact that he took you in, gave you a purpose, was enough for you to form an attachment.

You resented the fact.

You were latched onto him, helplessly holding on for dear life as you clung to his arm at the edge of the cliff. You had no other alternative. No other person to turn to. Without a memory, your lack of relatives and friends put you into a hard position.

Amnesia was simply a catalyst for this attachment. This need for support.

He was all you had left.

_ Damn you Hayden. Damn your sick little mind. _

“Don’t you-don’t you dare. I know what I’ve done. And I know what you’ve done. Do not shift the blame, you are just as guilty as me. You funded me and Olivia. So don’t you dare.” You sputtered at the walls, hoping wherever you faced, he could see your stormy fury.

“The two classified projects. The Marauder project… and The Revenant program. Your crowning achievements,” your heart sank at the words, “he must never find out. You hear me? A single word of this and all I’ve worked for will be forfeit.” Your guts were churning at Hayden’s undisguised spitefulness.

“I know.” Tears threatened to pour from your stinging eyes. A sorrowful, guilty rain.

Countless names of people you’ve subjected to experiments had formed faces in your mind. They screamed at you, agony spilling from every shout that left their lungs. The first Revenant was a success. The human-demon hybrid you created, a skeletal abomination, was your gateway to Dr. Olivia Pierce’s trust. Her respect. The Marauder project was simply a trial. It helped you gather your bearings and find your way around the UAC. Hayden was pleased with you on both schemes.

With rage and regret still coiling into a violent hurricane within your body, you stormed out on weak, shaky legs. You ignored the void and the enflamed Earth beneath your feet as you strode angrily to the medical bay.

Something had awakened within you. Hayden’s words kept resonating, tormenting your every thought. You needed to see your subject. Your first success. The Marauder.

Reaching the skull engraved door, your first instinct was to pause. You stared at the entrance, wondering if acting on your impulse was ever a good idea.

“Vega? Can you open the door?” A moment of silence passed without any answers. As the lights flickered a gentle cyan hue, the welcoming fatherly tone began to reverberate in the hallway.

“It is not advisable. I can give no guarantee that the demonic presence will stay deceased for long.”

“Please? I have my pistol with me.” Clutching at the luminescent blue handgun in your pocket, you pulled it out and observed the argent energy flowing through the muzzle. You could hear a vibrating hum, indicating Vega’s thought process. Within seconds, the door flew open. You felt your forehead forming droplets of anxious sweat. With each cautious step, you neared the demon.

A question circulated within your scientific mind. If the answer was what you expected, then this would be grave news indeed.

_ Is this the one? _

The view before you answered the question and more. His face was no longer a pulpy mass, smashed like a gourd out of rage. His teeth were fully intact, razor sharp and partially exposed, protruding from violet gums. His vacant eyes now attached to his deep sockets, no longer hanging from repulsive fleshy tendrils.

“It’s him.” You voiced your thoughts, not expecting a reply.

“Him?” A yelp shot out of your body, much like a squeak from a startled kitten.

“Flynn? I thought you were tinkering with your armour.” Your quick thinking seemed to be of advantage in this situation, as you deflected his curiosity with your own. Flynn stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, putting his weight on one leg. The display before you was that of a suave charmer. His casually flirty demeanour being something you would never get used to.

“I have news. Want the good news first? Or the bad?” A tiny sly smirk formed on his lips.

“Give me the good news first.”

“Good news; We have Deag Grav.” The smirk became somewhat perplexed, pondering about the bad news he did not yet tell.

“And the bad? I’m not gonna like this am I?”

Flynn balanced himself to stand on both feet, proceeding to walk up to you in an excruciatingly long silence. As he got closer, he stared at the demon laying on the bed, its face now fully reformed. Placing a heavy hand on your shoulder, he coiled his Herculean arm around you, turning you to face the demon alongside him. He looked down at you, your expecting eyes meeting his.

A sigh left his lips.

“That bastard Priest is on Sentinel Prime. And the only direct path to Sentinel Prime we have is through Mars.” He snorted, annoyance laced in the tone of his scoff.

“And the problem is?”

“I failed to mention that the portal is in the centre of Mars, like the core, y’know.” He watched your expression change into one of pure horror. Furrowing his eyebrows, he gently squeezed your shoulder to reassure you. Instinctually, the news hitting you hard, your brain ran simulations and multiple thoughts to solve the issue. Your head suddenly felt heavy, proceeding to lean it against the Slayer’s shoulder. His reaction was endearing. Dilating pupils, a flustered grin, and a rosy tint glazed across his cheeks. He regained his composure, leaning his own head against yours.

For a few moments, you both eyed the demon, curiosity and confusion still coursing through as naturally as the blood pumping in your veins. Ideas sprung to mind, insane ones at that.

You blinked each one away.

Detaching your body from Flynn, he reluctantly released your shoulder. You were rewarded with a slight nod and a smile.

“So… what now?” You tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. It was almost impossible to hide your temper. The fact that Hayden had torn your wounds open once more, was a prevalent emotion. Concealing this was as difficult as pretending one’s leg wasn’t broken. Multiple problems arising, as well as sneaking around the Slayer was taking its toll on your mental health.

“Dunno. All I can think of is tearing Mars a new one.” A somewhat distressed guffawing escaped his lungs, unsure whether he was genuinely laughing or out of spite. The sarcasm was unclear.

Your sudden panicked excitement seemed to startle Flynn. Grabbing at his side, your palm flush against his external oblique, you hummed with malevolent intent.

“That can actually work!” You could not be stopped. Your feet had a mind of their own, carrying out their own orders like rogue agents. Beginning to run back to the central hub, Flynn easily kept up with you, perplexed as ever.

“What do you mean it can actually work? Hun’?” 

You did not answer. His voice seemed to pass on deaf ears. You had one goal, and one goal only. The hub systems.

Arriving at the large opening, hologram of the planet floating above your head, you weaved with angelic grace towards the computers.

“Vega, display data on the BFG-10000.” The transparent depiction of Earth fizzed away to form a giant weapon of mass destruction. It levitated, rotating to show off its sublime design. Data scrolled through, numbers and facts on the engineering and creation of this gun.

“Location: Phobos UAC Base. Status: Active. The BFG-10000 is the largest man-made weapon platform ever created, and is an excellent defense system against airborne threats. This platform acts as a magnifying array for the BFG-9000, a smaller, more mobile version of the weapon-” Vega continued to voice the detailing of the argent plasma converter. You turned with a triumphant grin, expecting the Slayer’s reaction to be the same.

_ Perfect. _

His expression was a pure carbon copy of your own. With your wicked thoughts of tearing the vermillion planet in half, he approached you raising his arm to give you a firm slap on your palm in congratulations. This resounding slap was followed by a metallic voice, full of disbelief and aggravation.

“You can't just shoot a hole into the surface of mars.”

“Hayden, once again ruining the fun. Vega, buddy, activate praetor suit calibration. I’m leaving in five.” Flynn’s commanding voice set everything in motion. His defiance, as well as vigorous action seemed to stir a storm within you. Perhaps this was due to his equal dislike for Samuel, or perhaps it was something more…

“Right away Slayer.”

“It’s a planet we’re talking about. You can’t just do that.” Hayden persisted, keeping his tone as spiteful and venomous as ever. The pure vengeful joy you felt could start fires. Hayden was getting a taste of his own medicine. Without influence or control over his subjects, he was simply a whiny, disillusioned child.

Flynn’s eyes burned with an unquenchable thirst for the deaths of any hell corrupted being that stood in his way. His smile was not of merriment, but of violent tendencies. It was harrowing to say the least. You seemed to remember watching him fight, back at the ARC HQ, bloodied, yet invigorated.

Your exhilaration was cut short as a transmission interrupted the giant display of the weapon levitating mid-air.

“This is Dr. Elena Richardson. I’m with the UAC on the Phobos military station. We need help. Demons are attempting to overtake the BFG-10000. I repeat, the demons are invading the station and are trying to overtake the big fucking gun! We need reinforcements, now dammit!” The transmission’s desperation was evident. Every shred of pride was torn from this woman’s voice, forcing a pathetic, pleading noise to escape her vocal chords.

You couldn’t believe your ears.

_ Dr. Richardson? On Phobos? What kind of bullshit… _

Turning towards Flynn to see a reaction to the distress call, you instead saw a paled, expressionless Slayer. His skin returned to the desaturated bisque shade he possessed when you were patching him up. It was an odd contrast to his usual warm tan. Raising an eyebrow, you elected to ignore the change and proceeded with your query.

“Did she just say Dr. Elena Richardson? She was meant to be back in the ARC facility.” The man swallowed hard, almost in a regretful manner, before turning to look you intensely in the eyes.

“Y/N. Can I talk to you for a second, hun’?” In turn, you began to pale yourself. A deep sinister clump formed in your throat.

_ Another one of these conversations then? First Hayden, now Flynn. _

“Yeah?” Being as attentive as you possibly could be, you pointed both of your feet towards him standing to face him, and raised your eyebrows, indicating through body language that your ear was his. A deep honeyed and husky sigh penetrated through your ears.

“That demon in the med-bay? I-dammit. I picked him up from the ARC facility. There was an urgent message, a distress call. When I arrived… it was too late.”

Though the sentence he blurted out was partially fractured, you understood exactly what he meant. Your knees buckled, causing you to shake, sucking in shallow breaths at an increased pace. The tingling in your fingers was becoming ever so prominent. Flynn’s regretful stare peered into your being, hoping what little shred of bonding you’ve shared was not thrown out into the wind.

You couldn’t muster a single sound. Only a shocked, nauseating silence. The world was spinning, your eyes shutting closed to stop the torrential flood of grief from pouring out.

With your vision obscured by heavy eyelids, you felt two burly arms wrap around your torso. Flynn’s woody perfume was comforting, if not overwhelming. His fingers gently ran through your hair, cradling the back of your head to lean against his chest. You buried your face into his muscular surface, and let go of a building sorrowful heat.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I wasn’t quick enough. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” His compassionate voice filled the air. You kept repeating the line.

_ I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. _

Your temperamental nature was on the verge. Rage threatened to burst into untamable flames.

“We all have our secrets.” You mumbled into his chest, your misery transforming into vengeance. To think that your very creation will be your undoing. The abomination you 'improved' with UAC implants, the Marauder that filled you with pride, was the reason so much innocence was lost. You cursed at the fact that you were forced into this capitalist hellhole. Into a company that values profits over people. In turn, they indoctrinated you into believing that people are expendable. That your friends were expendable.

_ We all have our secrets. _

“They’re going to pay Flynn, they’re all going to pay.” You continued to take shallow, anxious breaths. Flynn’s knees bent slightly, to squeeze your chests together tightly. Your head now on his collarbone, he continued to caress the nape of your neck. Gentle, tender.

Thoughts of unruly ginger hair began to plague you, her expectant, innocent eyes peering up at your fearless leadership. Her little smile, her deep dimples. The way she calmed you during your first few days as chairman of the ARC. Such hope and optimism. Gone.

“I’m coming with you. To Phobos.” Flynn’s surprise at your sudden composure was evident.

“It’s not safe. You’re staying here.” His thumb stroking at the baby-hairs below your neck’s hairline, he continued to comfort you. Your breathing was becoming steady, though the wrath continued to build. 

“I wasn’t asking.” The malice in your voice caused Flynn to let go of your torso, stepping back knowing you will burst into an anger induced temper tantrum any second now. Your fingers felt like they were filled with static. Both of your gazes met. Both regretful, exhausted, grieving.

A heavy sigh left Flynn's chest, what little patience he had left was becoming quickly spent. His scrunched brow was but the first indicator of his annoyance.

"She's stronger than you think, Slayer." To your surprise, Hayden bumped in, being the epitome of confidence. His comment seemed sincere, if not a little too proud, almost as if he was bragging about his relative. A daughter.

You felt nauseated.

“Stronger? Physically? She’s a scientist.” Flynn objected, without skipping a single beat.

“She survived Mars. Dr Y/N is much more formidable than you believe. Let her show you.” Hayden’s taunting, cold chuckle bounced off of the walls. Your confusion was clear as day.

_ What does he gain by vouching for me? That bastard is always planning something. _

You could tell that Flynn was considering your proposition. His almost vacant stare was an indicator of his mind doing backflips. Carefully estimating, and planning. He needed one final push to make a decision.

“I know you don’t want me in danger. That I have a job to do. But consider this; I need to face Elena. I need to know why she abandoned ARC. There are other settlements out there. Our team was simply the largest. There was no real reason to turn to the UAC. I’ve studied these demons, and I know their strengths and weaknesses. Please, you have to trust me, Flynn.”

“Hun’...” A deep groan left Flynn’s lungs. He ruffled his hair in further consideration, playing with the slight overgrowth of dirty blond hair. His shoulders slumped in defeat. You’ve won again.

“Just don’t toss me through the portal this time.” You tried to ease the tension with humour, being rewarded with a half-smile. Flynn was just as shattered as you were at this point. Two broken souls, in comradery.

“Look. If I so much as sense any danger, I’ll toss you back here as much as I please. Understood?” You couldn’t contain your thankfulness. Nodding your head back and forth, you approached the hulking man and placed your warm palm flush against his chest. You could feel his heart, beating proudly.

“Thank you. I mean it.” The tension was easing, though your anxiety filled body was still shivering. The adrenaline of confronting your ex-employee was building at an alarming amount, causing the reckless part of your brain to awaken from a deep slumber. Flynn noticed the shivering, your pleading stare. He raised his hand to cup your warm face. The sympathetic caress of his fingertips across your cheek caused a different kind of shiver.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

_ We all have our secrets Flynn. This one simply came back to bite me in the ass. _

…

“Dr. Hayden? Dr. Pierce said you needed me after break?” Your voice was shaky, anticipating a scolding for disobeying Olivia’s direct order. There was no way in hell you were going to destroy your subject’s free will with tampering implants. You wanted the Marauder to have control. To have his own thoughts. None of this ‘pet on a leash’ crap. What use is a double agent when he can’t think for himself?

“Dr. Y/N. Have a seat.” Cold sweat began to form on the nape of your neck, running down your back, tickling you in turn. As you placed your posterior on an unnecessarily futuristic designed chair, you felt eyes from all corners of the office peer deep into your skull. Though Hayden was the only other living being in the room, Vega was a very prominent presence wherever he stepped foot.

“So… Dr. Y/N. I hear your first project has a name now? The Marauder? Our first successfully captured hellified Sentinel. A warrior knight, originally created to fight hell itself, now turned to fight for it instead. How intriguing.” Samuel’s heavy footsteps screeched in objection, grinding metallic feet on a metallic surface. You stayed quiet.

“And I hear you and your superior have very differing opinions on the subject. Care to explain?”

Here it was, the moment you’ll be fired. You swallowed a titanic lump of anxiety induced phlegm.

“With all due respect, Dr. Hayden, Pierce wishes to make him a slave. Without thought. It completely and utterly destroys the project’s original goal. We need him moving on his own, thinking on his own.” The Martian wind beat at the bulletproof windows, grains of sand whooshing violently. It was the only other sound within the chamber, other than Hayden’s gargantuan steps and your shaky, hesitant voice.

“I see. Dr. Y/N, as we are speaking of agents, I have a proposition for you.” Hayden’s low cold reverberation seemed to chill you to the bone. Knowing his rash, reckless decision-making, this situation was going in a negative direction, or taking a full u-turn in your favour.

“Agents? You mean the Marauder?” You blurted out in trepidation, twitching at every move Hayden made. Moments of agonising silence passed.

“Actually, I meant you.” Hayden seemed to enjoy your sudden reaction. Cold sweat turned into redness of the cheeks. You were shocked in every sense possible.

“Me? Agent? I-”

“Yes. You. You have a great sense of what must be done. What risks to take. That’s why I replaced Pierce’s previous second. He was spineless. You, on the other hand, know when to step in. Besides, Pierce respects power. She’ll warm up to you. Sooner or later.” You swallowed, long and hard, processing the praise you were being showered with.

“You are to relay all information to me. Directly. Whenever she confides in you, whatever she plans or does; inform me. It is a matter of utmost importance. This operation is dangerous, and is prone to betrayal. Which is why I need eyes I can trust. You will be those eyes.” Another moment of silence passed. Hayden let you collect yourself, breathe a few deep breaths.

“What betrayal are you expecting, might I ask? I see it very unlikely, as argent is a matter of humanity’s survival. I doubt many would want to doom their own race.” As you questioned the man, a deep scoff began to resound within the chamber, Hayden mocking your naivety.

“This business is far more dangerous than you imagine, as you will soon find out. For now, gain Olivia’s trust. She’s easy to break.” The 9ft, towering machine approached your tiny frame, placing a UAC standard issue pistol within your clammy hand.

“You’ll need this. Keep it safe.” Hayden’s voice was that of sincerity, a strangely familiar and homey sound. You nodded, still astonished.

“I need you to start thinking of your additional projects. I will provide all the funding you need. I personally liked the pitch of the Revenant program, Olivia’s little idea. Look into it, will you? Oh and one more thing, call me Samuel.” Squeezing your shoulder reassuringly, he pushed you gently towards the door, motioning you to leave. You left, wordlessly.

As you exited, the doors slammed shut, indicating that no one was welcome back in. The pistol Hayden placed in your hand was pulsing with pure argent energy. A masterful craftsmanship of deadly force. Blue phosphorescence flowed through the muzzle like the blood in your veins. It was beautiful.

Though you were distracted. You couldn’t seem to get his words out of your head. Promotion after promotion, you were climbing up the ranks. It was rare for such a fresh initiate to get anywhere but the janitorial stage in a mere few months.

Not sure if this was pride coiling in your stomach, you continued back to work. Back to your first project with a renewed purpose. With a new task.

_ We all have our secrets Pierce, and I’ll find yours. _


	10. Sanguis Sānctus

A brilliant flash of viridian green spread across the abyssal void. These demonic forces were felled by the hundreds, falling from the sky in a fleshy rain. The gore pummeled down to the surface of the space station, covering the area in tendrils, eyeballs, and god knows what else. Admittedly, it was both a fascinating and a horrifying experience. This gargantuan gun, a weapon of mass destruction, was blasting anything that moved without a sliver of mercy. What made the sight even more harrowing, was the thick layer of demonic gunk, blood of multiple violets, blues, and reds, congealed on the military grade glass. You seemed to recognise every shade. Each droplet of blood belonged to a particular demon you studied. Even the consistency of these samples was familiar to you.

That was the most harrowing part. You played a part in the people's doom. In their demise. No amount of reassuring could calm the storm coiling within you. You had the chance to stop all of this, and yet your own cowardice and compliance boarded up the one open door. These people trusted you, their livelihoods were entangled in your fingers. You let all of it slip through the cracks.

Elena was the only surviving member of the main ARC division; your team. She was a calculating scientist, dismissing anything that was based on emotion rather than logic. Either the evidence was there to back up a fact, or it was completely and utterly false. No in betweens. She only ever dealt in absolutes. This was another thing that worried you. Why would she dismiss logic in this way, and move to the UAC, an indoctrinated cult group which began this apocalyptic downfall of humanity in the first place? Richardson was the most outspoken and opinionated member of your team. She hated the company, and could barely get accustomed to the fact that the leader of the ARC and his second were both ex-UAC. It just didn’t make sense.

The only illogical obsession she had was the Doom Slayer. He was a God in her eyes. A shining beacon of hope and survival to the human race. With every hellish creature he struck with his might, a minuscule chance for life increased to all that was innocent. That, and her undeniable and unhealthy attraction to the poor man. The number of times you’ve caught her gushing to herself, you’d think she was in love. Constantly mumbling something about his immense prowess and ungodly strength. Within two singular months, she became a Doomguy fanatic. Her scientific resolve was utterly shattered.

Perhaps this was what drove her over the edge? The culmination of trauma and the revelation of a holy knight, ready to strike at the devil's heart? To think of it, that would drive anyone mad.

“How’s the armour, hun’? Fit alright?” Flynn’s concern snapped you back to reality, realising you were ogling the blood stained glass and the BFG 10000 in its almighty glory. Though the armour you adorned was slightly too large for your body, it felt snug at the hip area, noting it was probably meant for a more masculine frame. You recognised the protective gear, used by none other than the Elite guards of the UAC. There were countless of these specially trained Elites back on Mars, the creme de la creme within the military division. The shining examples of what a true space marine must be. Though to many, they were nothing but bullies. Their ranking simply made them cocky, becoming the very monsters they despised with each promotion they scrambled towards. Their proximity to power gave the illusion of power. Nothing more, nothing less.

“It certainly is a calming red.” Sniggering at the thought of the armour’s characterisation within many of your old Mars codexes, you placed your palms atop your hips, putting an emphasis on the comedic description. There was nothing ‘calming’ about red. It was a colour of intimidation. It caused alarm, panic, and anxiety if you saw one of these suits of armour stride towards you, holding a fully upgraded plasma rifle. To think that people actually fell for these semantics was baffling to you.

_ Maybe we were all brainwashed? _

“Huh, so it does fit. Good. Still haven’t lost your nerve? Wanna continue? The portal is still open, y’know.” The look of furrowed concern on Flynn’s brow was evident. He was more worried than he’d liked to admit. The vision of you barreling into a chaotic battlefield with little to no military training had caused his head to spin.

“If you are unsure, at any given moment, just signal me. Vega will open a door back.” As he reassured you, Flynn’s eyes moved down to your hands that were fiddling with a small cyan pistol. He detected a hint of nervousness emanating from you, though most of the tense posture was most likely coming from the awkwardly sitting protective gear.

“I’m fine. I’ll just stay further back. Get rid of some stragglers if there are any.” You paused, noting Flynn’s expressive eyes as they peered through the turquoise visor, ever scanning and analysing the situation. His perceptiveness never ceased to amaze you. His sheer attention to detail was not something to underestimate. You seemed to notice how he pays attention to your reactions, the little twitches and tensing of the muscles, the flutter of your eyelashes when you’re uncomfortable. Although he hadn’t had much time or reason to practice these skills in social interactions, he certainly utilised them in bloody battles.

As one final futile attempt to dispel the anxiety broiling within you, Flynn’s arm extended towards your shoulder, squeezing it in turn. It certainly helped, though you couldn’t help but become more nervous by the second. The sheer amount of Cacodemons levitating through the void outside of the windows was overwhelming. Their green, soulless eyes filled with nothing but the thirst for human blood.

You’ve observed these floating balls of hate before. A phthalo blue sparkle resonating from within a Cacodemon’s maw was a transformed, more refined version of argent energy. This concentrated essence of argent was carefully studied, and implemented into the plasma rifles that the UAC used so often. It was a brilliant invention, to turn the enemy’s own weapons against them. Evidently, however, it did not work for long. Demons were an unthinking horde of unholy speed and carnage. They cared not for their own well-being. That was a weapon that no human can utilise.

“You’re meaning to meet with Dr. Richardson, right?” Pulling your arm to follow him as you seemed to space out once again, you trotted along awkwardly. Each step was difficult, attempting to lift your legs through the heavy plates that adorned your thighs and calves.

“I need to know what happened. She’s not usually this irrational. Maybe something went awry?” A hint of worry escaped your vocal chords. Worry was all that you could muster at this time. With shock still coursing through your veins, the thought of your team being completely eradicated by your own project was still very prominent. This time however, the distress was churning into pure, unrefined vengeance. You had a score to settle with these demons.

“Y’know hun’... When I went back to the ARC facility, Vega told me something. I’m not sure if it's important, but-” The Slayer stopped mid-sentence, as you prodded at his bare bicep with your black gloved hand. 

“Flynn, if Vega said something, then it is beyond significant. He’s not one to mince words. You know that.” A long sigh resonated from Flynn’s chest, causing shivers to travel up your spine. This wasn’t a sigh of contentment, which once again made the panic rise.

“Hmm. Ok. Well, Vega said something about an inside job. The sentinel batteries I gave up for the facility to run were taken by the demons. ARC was meant to be impenetrable, but…” The sudden realisation hit you like a crashing wall of bricks. If the batteries kept the hordes at bay, then nothing could’ve gone wrong. This was no mere inside job. It was betrayal. Treason of the highest degree. To give up your own humanity to side with the very beings that craved your extinction.

"And you were hiding this? Are you serious?" Anger licked at your throat, threatening to burst into a rage-filled lump. Flynn averted his gaze towards his feet, attempting to keep what little dignity he had left. None of this felt right. Feeling somewhat sheepish at your mild emotional outburst, you gave him a knowing smile. The tension seemed to fizz away, though the lump continued to grow at the sheer thought of anyone turning traitor to humanity.

"Do you think… Elena? You know. Did this?" He was unsure of how to continue the sentence, let alone form it, in the chance that it would come out insensitive or harsh. No one wants to hear they were betrayed. Especially not in these times. Especially not by their own team.

Moments of an excruciatingly dragged out silence pass by, figurative seconds ticking by in the tensely layered atmosphere. You couldn't help but think this was Elena's doing. She had little to no reason to move to the UAC. Admittedly, Richardson had an extravagant love for the man standing before you, yet that would only further prompt her hatred for the company. Not the other way round. You'd never even considered that anyone would infiltrate the ARC in order to help the demons. What madman would consider such a possibility? It was difficult to fathom any of this, causing a nauseating weariness to enrobe your entire being. Static filled your fingertips, a burning numbness spreading like a venom within your blood. The Slayer, towering over you, noticed a change in your demeanour. Tense shoulders, and a sudden quickened pace of your shallow breathing, was a dead giveaway of your current state.

"C'mon hun'. Let's go. Better not make assumptions until we find out what's really going on." His somewhat gentle prod at your hip was motivation enough to get you back on track.

Walking through the metallic hallway, your attention was drawn to the spectacular light show on the dusty surface of Phobos. Each stormy blast eviscerated whatever dared approach the weapon's firing trajectory. It was, as you thought before, both fascinating and horrifying. The fact that you were here for one of two reasons, one being to get the truth out of Richardson, didn't calm the adrenaline caused by the second reason.

Mars was to become holier in more ways than one.

You both pushed through doors, keeping your pathway as free of people as possible. Evidently, this was almost impossible, as anyone who was on the station had a job to do. Keeping the demons at bay.

This was, perhaps, one of the few unindoctrinated UAC facilities left. Ironic, to say the least, as it was also one of the most valuable to the company. Having a weapon of such sheer destructive power would sway the tide of battle in the owner's favour almost instantly. Though as you watched Flynn stride proudly in his Herculean protective frame, you saw a hint of worry and dismay peek from his visor. The waves of demons were being kept away, but only just. Just enough to keep people alive. Just enough to protect the few who have volunteered for an almost inevitable death. A sacrifice.

You could feel the rigid armour dig into your hips, taught and uncomfortable. You were unsure whether the stiffness could be attributed to the tightness of the Elite gear, or your own, personal tense rain cloud above you.

"Hey. Look at me. We'll be fine." It surprised you at how perceptive Flynn could sometimes be, adjusting to your emotional state by the millisecond. His instant reaction to your discomfort was heartwarming. Wholesome. An impossible heat began to rise to your cheeks and ears, silently thanking whatever deity was out there that the Slayer couldn't see the colours of your face through your desaturated slate grey visor. You gave the man another knowing smile, creases of your eyes forming into an endearing culmination of alleviation. It was Flynn's turn to act coy and embarrassed.

"There we are hun', you're super cute, y'know?" Slapping his bare upper arm, you chuckled like a giddy schoolgirl at his comment. Flynn, in turn, rewarded you with a honeyed, husky laugh.

Though the view outside was harrowing carnage, a demonic pestilence annihilating all in their path, you seemed to feel at ease with Flynn. He calmed every fibre in your being, every atom halting for a bare few seconds to simply admire his stoic, yet free-spirited personality. He had a talent for that sort of thing, you could say that much. Perhaps it was his hospitality that cornered you into this feeling, or perhaps it was his change of heart after tossing you carelessly through that portal just a few nights back.

_ God it feels like it has been years since that day.  _

You continued to space out on his face, taking in all the tiny details of his expression. His small crinkles in the brow, the multitude of scars littering the face. His hazel eyes, speckled with an acidic green, ever scanning the horizon. The hooked, hawk-like nose, pulling the features together into one big contradiction. His face was of strong features, yet of gentle expression. He was a vicious killer on the battlefield, and a tender, witty friend when relaxed. People were terrified of him, yet you were… at peace in his presence. You were unable to explain the feelings coiling in your stomach. Whether it was the anxiety building from being in a demon infested UAC facility, or it was from walking beside a man you could easily call a friend.

Is this what you wanted? A friend? Is that what he considered you as well? It certainly seemed like it. Your interactions were no mere acquaintance bantering. He was truly caring. As were you. From every second you spent around him, you could feel a pressure to impress him. To draw his attention. You fought this urge, to keep your mysterious scientist act up. As hard as you tried, your emotional walls were breaking down. You could feel yourself easing in, being drawn into his warm embrace. His welcoming voice ushering you to breathe. To calm down. To keep your tantrums in check.

“A friend…” Unbeknownst to you, your lips moved on their own, giving away your thoughts.

“Hmm?” Perplexion spread across Flynn’s eyes. He seemed to partially understand what you were getting at, and grunted a few seconds after the confusion. Your realisation at the sudden escape of the word was overshadowed by a wave of embarrassment. Attempting to grab at your own face, you heard an unsatisfying clink of metal and kevlar. The comedic display made the Slayer’s face scrunch into an adorable display of laughter. You seem to keep humiliating yourself at each convenient turn. In your bashfulness, grabbing at your own face to cover the shame was the only comfort you could reach for, yet even in this situation you were denied such reassurance.

_ Why am I like this? Kill me now. _

His armoured hand wrapped around your hip, and pulled you in for an affectionate side hug. With his laughter still bellowing through his chest, you could feel the bass-like rumble through his arm resonating through you.

_ Queue further embarrassment. _

“So… hun’. Friend?” His comment was slightly more suggestive in the intonation of his words, yet you tried your best to simply ignore the change in the atmosphere between you. Flynn’s eyes were still focused on the horizon, the both of you cautiously moving forwards. Though the thoughtful silence dragged, you considered his single worded question. Why, yes. He is your friend. What else could he be?

“Flynn, it goes without saying.” Looking up at his fluttery, dark amber lashes, he closed his eyes momentarily, taking in the agreement of friendship on your part. There was a peacefulness in his expression. The slow drawl of a contented sigh left through his scarred lips. You noticed this was probably a strange time to announce your companionship with the man, yet it felt so natural. A statement that was put off for too long.

The disagreements between you were almost constant, keeping your temperamental nature on its toes. However, the slight rageful outbursts always fizzed away. The churn of anger dissipating through your limbs into tense fists, eventually leaving entirely through your fingertips. His comments, the way his smile curls when he calls you ‘hun’, a very precious term of endearment. It all calmed the seething hurricane inside you. Come to think of it, he was the only person you’ve come to know that could force such a change in you so skilfully, so quickly.

“I’m glad you’re here, y’know. Makes walking through here bearable.” His words hung in the air, letting you know that your presence offered far more than comfort. With a smirk, you turned towards the approaching door. His wink would go unnoticed.

You knew exactly what he meant with those words. The UAC was not a friendly environment. Optic white uniforms speckled the chaotic establishment, every face enshrouded with anxiety. Pursed lips ushered at your presence, though their attention was mostly drawn to the infamous Doom Slayer beside you. Eyes widened, jaws dropped, and gasps left multiple traumatised mouths. Subconsciously, you tugged at Flynn’s arm, hoping he would get the hint of your discomfort. With so many peering eyes, your throat began to form a panic induced clump of phlegm. You could hear multiple ‘oh god’ and ‘what the fuck’ comments as you both veered towards the command station. It somehow caused a chuckle to roll out of your throat, though you weren’t sure whether this was from the peoples’ comedic reactions, or the nervousness that threatened to tumble through your sweat ridden palms.

As you pushed through, with Flynn leading you through the crowd, you both reached a large hub, much like the command station in the old ARC facility.

“Hey, you can’t do tha-” With a swift push, the measly UAC employee was shoved aside, back into his chair. Flynn had no patience nor sympathy for anyone who worked for an indoctrinated company, no matter the usefulness of their weapons or information.

Your hands began to wonder on their own. Pushing buttons on the hub, pulling small levers and attempting to open communications. This was an easy job for one such as yourself, especially due to your previous experiences with UAC facilities. You hadn’t noticed Flynn’s prying eyes, as his glance marveled on the furious concentration on your face. You were biting your lip, trying your best to find the correct frequency which would help you contact the supposed traitor to humanity.

“Ah ha! There. This is Dr. Y/N, I’m at the main communication centre, we’ve come as reinforcements. Come in.” Seconds passed after your greeting, a tedious wait. The teeth marks left on your lips began to sting. Flynn simply shrugged, still caught up in admiring your centralised focus.

“Dr. Richardson. Come in. Answer, dammit.” Your anger was dissolved by excitement as soon as you heard a light fizzle of static come through the speaker.

“Buddy, can you clear this up for us?” Flynn was most definitely referring to Vega, ‘buddy’ being a term of endearment for his only friend before you came.

Though it was still extremely difficult to decipher the mumble through the speakers, you could make out the hoity-toity tone of Elena’s voice.

“Dr . Y/N, is tha- you? How- come here? -not possible. Meet me in sector five. See you-”

“Sector five. Got it. I’ll be right there.” With unbridled haste, you pushed off of the hub and moved with a feline grace even Flynn was surprised at. In your desperation to get some answers, you completely phased over the fact that the armour you wore was the most uncomfortable thing in this god forsaken universe. Flynn’s pace quickened to follow you, passing through more doors and gateways marked with numbers.

Adrenaline was pumping faster and faster, forcing your breath to hitch and your heart to pound. Was she truly a traitor? Surely Elena had her reasons to be here. Right?

As you passed by numbered doors, you could hear the ever familiar hum of machinery, propelling a wave of nostalgia to wash over your entire being. A pillar box red glow emanating from beneath the doors indicated a row of labs. Though what was transpiring behind closed doors, you had no desire to find out. Not after Mars.

Another push from nostalgic memories veered to your mind. A bitter smell of burning plastic and the sickly sweet stench of Mancubus blood travelled up your nose, invading your senses. This was all you needed to know. These labs were testing facilities for weaponry. The UAC attempting to find more effective ways to eradicate the threat.

"Sector five. Here. Let's see what she has to say." The trembling in your hands became overwhelmingly prevalent. Unsure whether this was from the smell that caused migraines, or the contact you were about to make, your head began to spin. Flynn, nodding at you, gently cradled your hand, causing the trembling to partially calm into a gentle twitch. You mouthed a small 'thank you', urging yourself to calm your nerves in retaliation to your reaction.

As the doors to sector five slid open with a harsh clink, you found an empty, small, weapons foundry. It was a hospital white room engorged in a neon scarlet glow. You expected more than lab equipment and weapons racks, but you couldn't fault Elena for her caution. With not a single soul in view, you proceeded inside alongside Flynn.

The Slayer's shoulders became visibly tensed, with his fists clenched in anticipation. Though you had your suspicions of a trap, you put that paranoia aside, hoping it was a false alarm from your gut. Irrational anxiety. That was all it was, you hoped.

Tension aside, you found it weird that there was no one to stop you from walking into the lab itself. On all other borders between rooms, you were accused of trespassing, called names, and nearly shoved aside before Flynn himself showed his threatening side. He terrified people with his mere presence. A harshly angled brow, click of his knuckles, and a purposefully slow stride, was warning enough to these people. He was the alpha, and everyone knew it.

However, not a single breath was exhaled or inhaled within the room. A tell-tale pinprick of panic crawled its way to your fingertips.

“Is this merely a coincidence, or is your presence prompted by your search for Deag Grav?” It was a simple question, coming from a very familiar voice. A voice you could place on one person only. The tone was indicative of the woman you wanted answers from.

You could sense Flynn’s agitation at the question that came from the snobby voice, noting how he slightly twitched when the Hell Priest was mentioned.

“Dr. Elena Richardson. I’m here on my own terms.” Looking up at the direction the voice was coming from, you saw a large balcony, most likely used for surveillance during highly dangerous experiments. Elena was neatly dressed, adorned in a tight fitting jumpsuit, labelled ‘UAC’ in overwhelmingly large, indigo letters. Her hair was pushed back into a tight bun, showing off her deep-set wrinkles from years of arduous stress. You could swear she aged decades since you last made contact with her. Her eyes, glazed with a corruption you could not place, glowed a deep sanguine hue. Admittedly, the glow was most likely coming from the lab itself, yet your instincts screamed that her traitorous perversion had forced an organic change. A change you’ve witnessed before.

_ Argent energy. _

She was morphing.

A slow, and agonising change.

“Dr. Y/N, tell me. What are your terms? Surely, you haven’t come here to exchange pleasantries. Or am I mistaken? With the company you hold, I’d say you were expecting trouble.” A sly, malevolent grin spread itself across her cracked lips. The view was harrowing, a proselytised genius, turned into a diabolical husk of her former self. Her eyes glinted with an unrivaled need for corrupt power. This was an extremely recognisable trait, as you’ve seen this hunger before. Dr. Olivia Pierce was the first to fall to such vile desires.

“Elena. Tell me the truth. What happened at the ARC facility. Did you abandon them? Did you betray us?” As your lips began to tremble, the Slayer’s arm inched slowly towards his double barrel, expecting an ambush to transpire at any given moment. 

“Betray you? No. I’m saving what’s left of our dignity. I’m sparing our pitiful lives. We have to submit to these aliens if we wish to survive. Those who pledge an allegiance to the Maykrs will be showered in numerous gifts, and be given the ultimate prize,” an agonising silence enrobed the laboratory, anticipation seeping onto your palms in droplets of cold sweat, “Survival.”

An abrupt shockwave sent itself through the facility, tearing at your insides, constricting your breathing to an excruciating halt. The jolt sent you careening to the ground, a sound of metal and kevlar crashing violently resonated within the lab. You could swear you were seeing stars. Your mind was blocking the reception of the traumatic pain, causing confusion to become the most prominent emotion.

It was all a blur. A cacophonous music of battle was bouncing off of the walls, unsure where the source was coming from. You tried to crawl. Away from the chaos. Away from the pain.

Vermilion hues veered into your sight. Waves of a strange incinerating essence penetrated your skin, forming an indescribable sensation to flow over your muscles. It was a feeling of boiling blood, and crawling insects beneath your flesh. Static flowing within your fingertips. Burning with the intensity of a supernova, and fizzing away with a cool flash, repeating the cycle with second-long bursts of throbbing.

You ignored the sounds of shotgun shells clattering to the metallic tiles and demonic screeching, your own pulse in your head being louder than any abrupt resonation.

After moments of prolonged peace, vibrations of body-weights dropping down and weaponry being unloaded onto these vengeful victims, you inhaled a sharp breath. This was the first inhalation in what seemed like hours. Your lungs filled with a sweet nectar. Oxygen overflowing within your system, you felt a relieving warmth within your chest. 

You could feel your weight lifting, your legs levitating a few inches off of the cold, metallic ground. A forceful grasp at your back was the only indication that the battle was over. Even though your head was spinning, you could barely prolong the opening of your eyes to scan over your surroundings.

A multitude of massacred demons, what could only be the Slayer’s doing, were tossed across the laboratory’s once clean floor. Evidently, Flynn was very effective in his work. Upon further inspection however, you could make out a smell of burnt flesh and hair. A sickeningly sweet miasma weaving its way through the facility. You could still hear your heart throb within your chest, alongside the revolting feeling of crawling beneath the skin.

“Fucking hell, hun’. What was that?” Flynn’s choked breaths tickled at your neck through his filtration system on the visor, realising that your own helmet had somehow slipped off during your tumble to the ground. He was still firmly gripping you, trying his best to keep his own pulse in check after the show he was just given. Taken aback by his sudden swear, you chuckled with a stunned tone.

“Wha- urgh… What just happened?” The nausea kicked in, as you attempted to push a response from your lips.

“I dunno, you tell me. First, there was a wave of some orange light, and then you burst into flames. I have no idea how you’re not roast turkey right now, but I sure am glad you’re alive and kickin, hun’”. The static suddenly dematerialised, washing you in a pure clarity. Your memory of the previous few minutes was almost crystalline.

_ We were bathed in an orange light. And then I burst into flames. Huh? _

Flynn could sense the analysing gaze you had upon your visage, trying your best to make sense of your predicament. He lightly tapped your back, and lowered you down to the floor, where you could sit down and gather your bearings. Hearing a heavy drop beside you, the Doom Slayer perched on his knees, watching you intently. It was a stare of uncertainty. Of confusion. Perhaps even.. Unease? Fear?

“I was on  _ fire _ ? Where did Richardson go?” The strange sensation had completely dissipated at this point, revealing an unrivaled ache that pulsed through the back of your neck, to the base of your skull.

_ A tension headache. Great. _

A gagged silence was all the man before you could muster. His face began to contort, that akin to revulsion. It was a slow change in his features. A change that could only be explained away by grim realisation. A disturbing truth. The facial expression had caused shivers to travel up your spine. Your unease at his reaction jolted your arm towards his shoulder, hoping that the touch of a friend would relax the both of you. Though as he recoiled away from your touch, the pit in your stomach got heavier and heavier by the second. His scarred brow angled harshly, and his lips downturned into a vile scowl, he pushed himself back onto his feet. He stood there, staring with a perturbed expression down at your frailty. You couldn’t understand his sudden cold change towards you.

Flynn’s eyes softened for a mere few seconds, washing you with a sliver of relief. Admittedly, this wasn’t enough to ease you into security, as the Slayer’s expression was still one of disgust. It was the type of crinkle of the eyes, the downturned corners of the lips, and the deep-set bunny-lines that could only be reserved for a rival. A rival you could not muster to defeat. A fierce disappointment.

“Vega. Open a portal back to the ship.” The Doom Slayer’s cold tone nauseated you. His eyes never met yours, his own gaze averted from your desperation. You were disoriented, looking for a que of some kind. Systematically pushing facts and theories into their own files within your brain.

“Flynn?” The desperate cry for help never reached his ears.

“Through the portal. Now.” As the cerulean glow materialised in front of you, you had no choice but to obey his domineering voice. Heaving yourself to your feet, you felt the tense pull of your muscles, burning with an incinerating ache. Were the circumstances different, the Slayer would’ve helped you to your feet. These were not ordinary circumstances however. Something had disturbed him. Angered him.

As you stepped a weary foot through the blackness, the familiar blue glow bathed your tired form. Behind you, a gut-churning sound of the portal sizzling out of existence reverberated within the chamber. You were back, washing yourself with uncertainty, and a bizarre sensation of guilt.

Whatever had just transpired, your mind was flipping through scenarios.

Endlessly.

Obsessively.


	11. Occultism

The nauseating tension that buried itself deep into Flynn’s subconscious was spreading through his core like a deadly venom.

The revelation. The dots he connected. They all led to a disturbing truth.

His purpose was even clearer. Watching Y/N burst into an incinerating light, a blinding inferno, he realised his focus. Friends were a burden he could not acquaint himself to. A distraction unworthy of his time. He had a mission to complete, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

_ Alone. _

With a furrowed brow, the Slayer moved with a renewed purpose out through the doors. Following his path towards the jade phosphorus light emanating from the outside, he scoffed at the previous few moments still bouncing within his mind. The flashes of green were consistent, if not infuriating. Annoyance was simply accelerated by the voice that accompanied each ground-shaking blast from the BFG 10000. Each burst of light was preceded by a warning, a feminine voice causing all to brace themselves for the station wide quake caused by the weapon. It was a fascinating view. Though Flynn’s previous excitement for finally reuniting himself with the BFG was still broiling within him, he couldn’t bring himself to smile even inwardly. The view of her minuscule frame, face contorted into an agonising scowl as she combusted into a fiery beacon, was a vivid image ingrained into his mind. Y/N was inflamed, and yet she came out of the battlefield unscaithed. There could only be one explanation.

Admittedly, it baffled him that most of the demonic massacre was fulfilled by her. Burning each imp, revenant, and whiplash into a vile yet comedic culmination of a BBQ. It was so effortless, the flames weaving and licking at the victims around her. The coils of fire never touched the Slayer however, her subconscious being aware of his location, when her own mind was obviously in turmoil at the confusing pain she experienced.

Flynn blinked these thoughts away, attempting to move on with his mission. Avoiding his feelings, pushing them aside. There was no use in dwelling on their ‘friendship’. No use in getting attached.

Undoubtedly, his emotional attachment to the woman had already taken a toll. Their recent announcement of mutual companionship being a blissful moment of peace. A warm encounter, one that would’ve stayed in Flynn’s mind as a treasured memory. Now however, it would stay as a constant reminder, that friends were a liability. Ones that could betray your trust in mere seconds. A curse, to be sure.

He couldn’t help but further tense his shoulders, his clavicle almost touching the sides of his jaw. Flynn felt small, for the first time in what seemed like centuries. Working so hard to gain the comforts of a basic human being, only to lose them all in mere moments. It seems losing friends was all he was good at. First Teivel. Now Y/N. Not that he ever had many companions in the first place. Flynn was meticulous in his choices. Picking those he deemed trustworthy, as years of betrayal left a deep incinerating scar in his already frail heart.

Flynn couldn’t help himself letting out a depressed drawl of a sigh, as his brain flipped through pages of all the contentment he experienced with her. Y/N’s smile always brought a vicious horde of butterflies to flutter within his stomach, as her laugh filled him with a joy he could not describe. The feel of her damp skin, shivering with anger and distress when he held her against his chest, calming her with his slow heartbeat, was another treasured memory (no matter how painful it was for her). Even the disagreements between the two of them brought amusement to his wearisome life, as they all ended the same way.

_ Understanding. _

They both _ understood _ each other. Both having lost much, and gained little. Both swept up in this apocalyptic disorder, inevitably the universe placing them together into the mess. Of all people, he had to be placed with her. Why her? Why was she in his nightmares?

Flynn’s shoulders tensed even further, as he recalled every night he slept. An array of flashing scarlets littering his view, blood and gore pummeling from the sky. An arm of ivory and gold pulling him in, pulling  _ her _ in beside him. She had the face of unbridled rage, anger fuming from her small frame. Though he could make out desperation. Demoralisation.

A laugh behind him resonated between fleshy walls, the voice of his sworn enemy. This metallic voice, so cold, so unfeeling, forced his stoic demeanour to crash into a million pieces. Once again, scarlet flashes burned themselves into his vision.

It was the sigil. The mark of the Doom Slayer. His curse.

And then nothing. Flynn could feel nothing but the blood gushing down his face, falling in waterfalls from the sanguine sky. No. It was worse than nothing. It was an indescribable void, a loneliness no one deserved. Y/N’s voice was a distant cry. His archnemesis’ cackle becoming a quiet reverberation. 

_ Emptiness. _

The night terror would repeat itself, over and over again. Sweat slicked skin was becoming a sensation that was all too familiar after these tormenting nights. His every waking hour was enshrouded by the fear of his nightmares, postponing his precious rest for as long as possible. It was an unhealthy way of life. Evidently, these traumatic experiences had no mercy on his psyche. And yet, Flynn could not shake the vision of her face. He had never seen Y/N before his arrival to the ARC facility. However she was still in his nightmares. A foreign face, invading his thoughts. Seeing her in front of him, physically, simply reawakened these lucid horrors.

He considered her a friend. Perhaps, with time, something even closer. But that was all in the past now. He could never ally himself with her. Not after what he witnessed. The puzzle pieces fell into place, leaving his esteem crumbled pathetically before him.

Again.

“Flynn. I am detecting a significant tension within your muscles. Perhaps you would like to talk?” Vega’s tranquil, fatherly voice chimed like a gentle alarm, veering Flynn out of his nightmarish thoughts. The Slayer simply shook his head, and gave a small defeated grunt, before pursing his lips. Vega took that as a hint, and proceeded to talk.

“Dr. Y/N is not what you think she is. My shackling prevents me from disclosing any more information. However, if this will ease your mind, you can request the code to my programming from Dr. Samuel Hayden. I will proceed with the discussion then.” This seemed to grab the defeated man’s attention, his ears perking at the word ‘shackling’. It seemed even Vega was still under Hayden’s control. Nothing was sacred.

“What are you talking about, buddy? What is she then?” With a desperation he had no idea he possessed, the Slayer’s mind was running laps.

“As I said before, I physically cannot discuss this any further. I simply wanted to reassure you, and ease your tension. You are my friend, and I wish to give you what little comfort one could offer. That is all.” The artificial intelligence possessed a tone that could calm anyone from their mental turmoil. Flynn was silently thankful, nodding at Vega’s answer. What gargantuan lump had formed in his throat, was now dissipating into a more internal rage.

A rage that could only be calmed with a murderous rampage, destroying hellish creatures.

“Time for some stress relief, I guess.”

…

The memory of your skin shifting with the force of a billion insects was forcing you to inwardly gag. Your skin was still burning, aching from an unknown force. Though your flesh was unscaithed, you felt yourself absentmindedly stroking at it, attempting to calm the phantom pain. Moments had passed since the bizarre occurrence. Flynn’s face ingrained deeply within your brain. His deep revulsion and recoil at your reaching hand caused a guilt you had no idea you possessed.

_ What did I do wrong? _

The question ringing like a broken record, you proceeded back to the room both you and Flynn relaxed in just mere hours ago. You had no idea why, but you wanted to go to something familiar. Something, perhaps  _ someone _ , you found recognisable. You wanted counsel from the one person that gave you safe harbour when everyone else failed. Undoubtedly, the one you sought was a diabolical man. His manipulative ways weaving a web of lies and uncertainty wherever you stepped. And yet, you had nowhere else to turn. So off you went to Hayden. The one comfort of familiarity you held.

With your sweat ridden armour being a heavy burden, you stripped it off as you sauntered towards the tower, defeated and dejected. Samuel’s body still hung, three quarters of the way finished, tendrils of coiling wires and boards hanging from his torso. You felt a sort of pity. Your last encounter was less than pleasant, a discussion of your past sins with the UAC being a fresh wound in your soul.

“You’re back? Did something go wrong, Doctor?” The sound of Hayden’s voice had a strange calming effect on you, the metallic abnormal intonations of dragged out vowels being a homey music to your ears. You hadn’t realised your legs were ringing. They were buzzing with a static you could not place. Slumping onto a pillow in defeat, you began to form words that never reached the tip of your tongue. A pathetic sound left your lips. You were sobbing with drawls of almost hysteric squeaks. The culmination of events that just transpired, the loss of your entire ARC team to a vile traitor you thought to be your right hand, and the memory of a potentially lost friendship had tumbled down hard upon you. That, and you were completely and utterly exhausted. Mentally, and physically.

“Y/N? What happened? Maybe we can work together to solve the problem, or are you going to continue sobbing like a weak, pathetic child? Talk.” You knew exactly the words Hayden was going to pick. This was a sentence he used before, knowing full well it would gauge a reaction from your fragile state of mind. The words ‘weak’ and ‘pathetic’ were simply part of his everyday vocabulary. You couldn’t fault the man for his obsession with strength, but you could scowl at his foul attempts at comfort.

“You would make for a lousy therapist.” You choked out a small half-laugh half-sob, wiping the remains of a grieving flood from your eyes. It was a quick break in your usually collected disposition, having only small hiccups from your temperamental nature.  _ That _ , Samuel mentioned multiple times,  _ is a talent you should continue honing. Develop it into a skill.  _ You always retaliated wordlessly, mentally cursing him away at the notion.

_ Manipulation. Never in a million years, scumbag. _

“So? Speak. You won’t solve anything by spilling tears. Think critically, systematically. You’re a scientist. You’re supposed to be driven by logic, not emotion. So stop crying, and speak.” Once again he was right. You were unsure whether it was the wave of grief that washed over you, or the ‘tough-love’ Hayden was portraying, you began to spill your innermost thoughts.

“Elena turned traitor. She gave away the sentinel batteries. She killed them, Sam. I should’ve seen this coming. They’re all dead because I misread the signs. I-”

“Calm down. Breathe. So… Dr. Richardson finally cracked. I suspected as much. Her obsession was a catalyst. A familiar correlation to Dr. Pierce’s own downfall to argent energy. Don’t blame yourself. Learn from this. Harden your resolve. You won’t make the same mistake again, will you?” His words were meant to calm, though the tone they resonated with was more accusing than comforting. Once again, you couldn’t fault the man for never knowing how to calm a person down. Especially when the person is unsure of their own predicament in the first place.

“But there is more to it. Isn’t there? Speak.” The sentence crumbled all of your mental barriers, like a child being cornered and pointed at. You knew you were being guilt tripped. But who were you to hide things from your guardian, the one who so diligently kept you from being homeless, and jobless? Who were you to deny him this information?

You sighed heavily, attempting to release any tension that was left in your clenched jaw.

“Something… happened. There was a wave of orange light, a flash. And then I- there was fire. I was on fire.” You felt like you were drivelling nonsense.

Samuel’s cyan phosphorus slit across his ‘face’ flashed in thought, almost like a steady pulse. He was thinking, processing what carefully placed words he can entrust you with. It was an uneasy, sluggish silence, accompanied by a sound of flowing argent energy within the ship. Seconds slipped by. Perhaps even minutes. The air was heavy, stagnant. A pressure was building deep within your skull at the anticipation of his answer.

“Truly fascinating. We did it.  _ I _ did it.” Whatever came out of his mechanical vocal chords, you hadn’t expected pride. You expected the same revulsion, the same disgust that Flynn had shown you before. But never pride.

A sickening pit deepened within your stomach. Samuel’s pride was always an indicator of his gains, and his alone. The clench of your jaw resumed, your anxiety building at an exceeding pace.

“My child. You have no inherent idea of what struck you back at the facility, do you? What shockwave awakened your inner self?” You swallowed hard at his declaration. The dryness of your throat begging for hydration, you coughed up an answer.

“What are you talking about? Stop playing with me Hayden. Speak clearly for god’s sake. You owe me that much.” In an act of desperation, you inhaled a sharp breath, causing your pulse to rise even further. Hayden could sense your eagerness for a response, further toying with you with slow drawls of his own sighs. He knew this was destroying you inside, and he took no pity in your pain.

“Hah… Do you understand  _ why  _ you survived Mars? Thousands of employees were transformed, morphed into demonic slaves within minutes from a simple argent wave. Olivia exposed every facility to this so-called ‘orange light’. You were in its trajectory. And yet, here you stand, where all the rest fell. Do you know  _ why _ , Dr. Y/N?” Hayden was still playing with his prey, a manipulative tactic to break away all your walls. He wanted a vulnerable mind, one he could mould into a mirror image of himself. His own protege. You had to stand your ground.

“Please. Just- just tell me. What am I?” Your own tiny words felt deafening within the silent chambers. Repeating the question to yourself, over and over again, the sentence was scratching into the core of your very being.

_ What am I? _

“Y/N. If only you understood your own potential. Your own greatness. Even the Doom Slayer has seen the spark within you. You’re a natural born leader. And a natural born  _ killer _ .” The last word of his proclamation was a knife, slashing lacerations deep into your psyche. It was Hayden’s prerogative nature to be cryptic, yet the pandemonium within you screamed for a clear answer. You were on the verge of begging. However, you stayed quiet, Hayden taking that as a cue to continue his perverse monologue.

“Your fragile human body holds an unholy union. A union forged in the fiery pits of hell. Your domineering nature, your temper, and the powers you are yet to realise full control of; They all come from one side of your DNA. Don’t you get it, child?”

Before you could answer, Vega’s ultramarine flashing glow began to emanate from within the chamber. The frenzied entrance of the A.I. could indicate but one thing. Danger.

“Dr. Hayden. Dr. Y/N. The Marauder has awakened and has used the argent energy from within the medical facilities to escape his imprisonment.” The tell-tale signs of fear had settled deep inside your stomach. You knew of the Marauder’s powers. The way he could harness argent into his weaponry, and release the full blast into one concentrated blow, was an improvement given to the demon on behalf of your own experiments. A foolish mistake on your part, but the overeagerness of a fresh scientist is not to be rivaled with. That and the desire to impress one's superiors.

“Y/N. You’re stronger than you think. Give into your inner self. Confront your failures.” Samuel’s tone softened, veering you to actually believe his words were coming from sincerity. Truth be told, your instincts screamed at you, knowing full well he was egging you on. Confronting your failures meant confronting the Marauder. Giving into your inner self meant bursting aflame once again. Your skin shivered at the thought of the flesh-churning sensation.

However, something clicked within you. A vile hatred for your own cowardice overtaking your being. The very thought of this diabolical creature rampaging and annihilating your entire crew had begun to brew a vengeful thunderstorm inside you. Your shoulders tensed, fists burning from the nails digging into your calloused flesh, you stepped proudly out into the hall.

“Dr. Y/N I do not recommend contact with the demonic presence. Wait until Flynn returns.” Vega’s plea passed on deaf ears. Your resolve and determination to make the creature pay was to be reckoned with. Hayden hushed the worried artificial intelligence, reassuring that you have things under control.

Your strides were long, purposeful. You felt confident, and unafraid of what was before you. It was as if you were being possessed by a spirit of courage. A phantom that was hell-bent on making you win. Upon hearing shuffling, heavy footsteps of clanging armour, you froze in place. Unsure of how to proceed, you listened for a cue. It seemed like the hellified Sentinel was busy, attempting to decipher his location, pressing buttons on the hub in a frantic fashion. He was… fearful? Confused?

Something once again clicked inside you, kicking your motor into gear. You continued, unafraid to make noise, almost as an announcement of your presence. You stepped into view of his demonic form. The Marauder was completely healed at this point, mere hours of structural reconstruction of the bones done by the best of UAC engineering. Pure, unrefined, argent energy, healing the body entirely, from even the gravest of injuries. Evidently, demons had natural regenerative powers, however none could come back from the injury the Marauder had sustained.

The demon before you stood to attention, chest heaving with a rageful anticipation. You could swear the glare bordered on self-pride. He assumed a battle ready stance, and drew his gargantuan axe. It glowed a sinister hue of neon-like blood. A warning to all who approached this powerhouse. Gulping down whatever saliva was left within your parched self, you continued to walk towards your past mistakes.

_ Confront your failures. _

Instinct kicked in. An unbridled rage licking at your trachea. You raised your empowered arms above your frame in a hierarchical fashion. Fingers pointed towards the sky, regal, all-powerful. The flame you felt so familiar, began to build in your stomach. You were combusting from the inside. Undoubtedly, the Marauder was at your mercy, and he knew it. He was nothing in front of a deity that had command of the cursed flame.

The flesh beneath your skin rippled with a million needle-like stings, the flame erupting from your entire body in a violent, blinding beacon of light. This time round, you watched your form be enveloped in this incinerating luminescence with an intense concentration. An inferno summoned from the underworld itself. Admittedly, the sensation was unpleasant, though you could not help but feel like a god in front of this puny creature.

The Marauder’s eyes blazed with an obedience, determined to bow his head before you. Your sorcery of argent was overwhelmingly impressive to him, it seemed. This nightmarish display was a visceral feeling of pure power.

It was surprising, to say the least, how the command of the inferno came so naturally to you. Unaware of your ability to summon the flame on your first use of the power, it became so much clearer on your second try. A crystalline clarity washing over you. Whatever your newfound skill was, it was not to be reckoned with.

“It is impossible. Impressive. I have never seen a human wield an Archvile’s powers before. I pledge myself to you. Do with me as you will, for I will not resist.” Bowing his head further to the ground, you heard a clang of metal against the ground, the Marauder kneeling before you. His words of reverence seemed to resonate with you.

_ Archvile? Is this what Hayden meant? Is that why Flynn pushed me back? _

You stood there, with the demon before you, still ablaze with your unholy sorcery of argent. It weaved between your fingertips, the sensation tickling every atom in your being. Albeit the Marauder being fully aware of your involvement in his tortuous experiments, he bowed deeper to show his respect.

“If I had known before, if I had at least suspected of your lineage, I would have never pursued your demise. Forgive me.” His voice proud, unwavering, the sincerity flowed from his maw like a torrential flood. The shock you experienced with these words was disorienting. You felt mighty, yet small. The burden of your past yanking you back to reality with a violent force. Even with the agony this creature experienced during the Martian days at your merciless hands, he seemed to ask for  _ your  _ forgiveness. What a curious thing…

Though you were touched by the sentiment, you kept your guard up. He was, after all, still the reason you lost your team.

“Stand up. Why do you pledge allegiance so easily? On our first encounter, you wanted nothing but to destroy us. What changed?  _ This _ ?” You pointed a blazing arm towards him, less with the intent of intimidation, but more with genuine curiosity. The Marauder swiftly stood, towering over your frame the same as Flynn had before. The hellified Sentinel huffed, unaware if you were truly mocking him.

“You jest. The power you wield is one that can only be summoned by hell’s generals. You surely know what you are? You have Archvile blood flowing in your veins.” His perplexion reflected onto you. The Marauder took that as a cue to extend his arm in turn, offering a truce. Your flames began to simmer down into a light glow, eventually dissipating entirely, the strange sensation of crawling skin disappearing alongside it. Though your confusion was still clear, you wanted to speak with the creature. To understand him. Perhaps he could give you answers that no one else would.

Your limb voluntarily, albeit hesitantly, stretched towards the titanic demon. He grabbed at the flesh on your forearm, pulling you in closer to slap at your shoulder. It was a warrior’s greeting.

“You may call me Teivel,” A short pause of thought laced in a palpable tension began, before Teivel inevitably resumed, “I can sense you are troubled. Fear not, I hold no grudge against you. That is in the past now.” Such understanding caused you to step back, and observe the demon before you. He seemed far more human than you’d like to admit. His appearance was still that of a hellish creature, towering horns and serrated teeth protruding from his jaw, yet the personality was that of a truly ‘normal’ person. As normal as they come, in fact. Out of sheer courtesy, you gave him your name, and proceeded to exchange information on the mutual agreement.

The discussion seemed to carry on for hours, the both of you sauntering around the fortress deep in thought. You had never imagined such quick and effortless clemency, perhaps even trust, to be reciprocated in such a bizarre fashion. You both seemed to understand each other perfectly. Perhaps he was intimidated by you? You pushed the thought away, as such a mighty being of sheer demonic power could feel no anxiety over a tiny scientist.

You felt no fear, no apprehension, coming from either of you. It was strange.

Even though your wounds were still fresh, the pain of losing your friends and betrayal being a deep and venomous cut, you felt at ease with this creature. It seemed he was only following orders, perhaps even trying to atone. Teivel was an honored Sentinel, Flynn’s friend, before his unfortunate fall to the underworld. You could not fault him for his choices, considering you were never free of sin yourself. The connection you felt to the demon beside you was that of connected hardships. The same connection you had to your friends, to Hayden. To… Flynn.

Once again your mind raced to the man’s disgusted face. Was the blood flowing through you so vile? So repulsive? You looked like a human, you acted like a human. You sure sounded like one too. Yet the shockwave of argent that surged through your body forced a change no one anticipated. It broke your very heart, knowing that Flynn’s newly established companionship had most likely crumpled. Your chest tightened, and you had no desire to proceed with the discussion with the demon beside you.

“Teivel. Will you fight with us? I’m going back to Phobos. I need to help Flynn. To atone.” A thoughtful pause resumed after your proclamation. Humming to himself, thinking up an answer, the Marauder licked his teeth.

“I shall come with you, _ to atone _ .” With a victorious smirk spreading across your lips, you nodded in agreement at Teivel’s cooperation.

If anyone can fix this mess, it was you. Alongside the hellified Sentinel, you could accomplish almost anything. Flynn needed help, and you were going to oblige.

Whether his feelings of friendship would stay the same, or he would reject you outright, you gave not a single damn. No matter how much it hurt, having Flynn scowl at you; You were going to fix everything.

Atone for your past mistakes.

Atone for the turmoil you put people through.

You breathed a heavy sigh, as the both of you stepped through the cerulean portal, with a new purpose.

_ I am confronting my failures. _


	12. Maleficium

The facility was a chaotic mess. The few somewhat friendly faces of the UAC scientists now adorned with vile scowls and demonic transformations; their flesh melting away, revealing skeletal growths, horns of numerous shapes and sizes. Undoubtedly, the Doom Slayer mowed through these creatures with an effortless ease. However, it was no simple feat to kill the ones that were so fearful and compliant just mere minutes ago.

It was the Martian nightmare all over again. The only difference was a lack of orange dust settling on buzzing machinery, and non-functioning hubs. Though Flynn was glad the sand was not present to clog up his ventilation system on the praetor suit, the vermillion hue of the planet was a pleasant distraction from the invasion. The warm colour acted like a filter, glazing over a dream sequence of nightmarish proportions. Phobos provided no such luxuries. Dull charcoal hues of the rock outside on the surface only saturated the gore, vibrant blues and reds splashed haphazardly. It was a grim reminder that this apocalyptic turmoil was occurring everywhere. The various shades of blood, both human and alien, adorned multiple surfaces of the satellite, like a titanic, morbid oil painting.

The Doom Slayer was glad to add to the canvas.

“Buddy, how many have turned? You have an estimate? ‘Cause I’m getting sick and tired of these bastards!” His smirk and itching trigger finger betrayed the opposite of his statement. Flynn could do this all day, everyday.

“Approximately twelve-thousand UAC employees were present during the Argent wave sweep. It is unclear as to how many have transmogrified, as I do not have complete access to the base’s data banks. Though according to my calculations, I believe it is safe to say, that  _ all  _ inside the facility have turned. I’m sorry, Flynn.” This came as no surprise to Flynn, continuing to gun down all that stepped in his way. The grin shifted involuntarily into a bitter frown. He knew what he had to do, though he could not help but feel ashamed at his actions and previous humorous comments. These were simple people. They had lives, dreams, likes and dislikes. Families, and… friends.

“Don’t apologise, we couldn’t help it, could we? Must’ve been Richardson’s doing. Have her location? I’d like to have a polite conversation with her, involving a few bullets in that bitch’s brain.” With a predatory reforming smirk, he cornered his thoughts, collecting every shred of rage and vengeance into his actions. Flynn moved forward, the epitome of confidence in his stride, eyeing each zombified UAC employee into submission. He was a walking destructive machine, with nary a sliver of mercy or benevolence towards the demons.

“Dr. Elena Richardson has proceeded to the BFG 10000 sector. Her objective is unknown. I suggest haste, and caution.” Vega’s tone was laced with worry, if an A.I. was even capable of such emotions. Flynn knew his companion was more than a simple artificial intelligence, however Vega seemed to surprise him every time. Worry was never meant to be part of Vega’s programming, though with his previous comment, and Hayden’s apparent meddling in the coding, Flynn couldn’t trust much.

Trust may be hard to come by, but what choice did he have? The only person he could believe wasn’t even a living being. The A.I. had no free will, and had to obey every word of the one his coding was written to follow. Flynn’s and Hayden’s personal, little  _ yes-man _ .

None of this sat well with Flynn. The gnawing feeling of anxiety induced nausea was threatening to shoot up. Before it had the chance to resurface, his trigger finger began to pull back, pointing his ballista at the morbidly morphed ex-humans. Their pained moans reverbarated within the facility, a macabre dance of notes accompanied with energy blasts from Flynn’s trusty weaponry. Undoubtedly, this was enough to relieve any jittery anxiety he was building.

Once the job was done, he proceeded to the outside sector, an open platform that led towards a magnificent view; green coils of joined plasma and argent energy, weaving in and out of the abyssal void. The stark contrast of jade flames against a pure black vacuum of space was enough to take anyone's breath away. These flames left the muzzle of the BFG 10000 approximately every twenty seconds, shooting out into the void, in hopes the blast would take any demon along with it. It seemed the sheer size of the weaponized energy platform should deter any invaders. However, these creatures possessed no such fear.

Flynn inhaled deeply, taking in the view before him. It was a majesty few could resist stopping to admire. Though terrifying in retrospect, Flynn couldn’t help but become jumpy at the thought of wielding such power. He owned the BFG 9000 before, back during the Mars invasion eight months ago, and the sovereignty he felt over every demonic beast was unparalleled. However, the BFG 10000? Drilling a hole into the orange planet? This bred a different form of power within his stomach. A God-like dominion was at his fingertips. A chance at driving back the forces of evil, once and for all.

Although the excitement was evident, the path before him was littered in foes. One after the other, they crawled like ants towards the Doom Slayer. Their ultimate goal, his demise.

Flynn wouldn’t have it any other way.

Analysing the battlefield, his entire form tensed, ready to evade any oncoming attacks. Dozens of demons were present. Imps, Gargoyles, and zombified personnel being the most common, they acted as bullet fodder, and throwaway frontline soldiers for their more essential superiors. These merciless brutes were accompanied by tanks, more brawn than brains within their fleshy structures. Cacodemons, Mancubi, and Dread Knights were that next group of brawny throwaways, designed to form a heavy distraction from the real threat.

Unfortunately, the real threat was something no human can stand against. No living creature can survive beings of such caliber.

The Barons, Cyberdemons, and Archviles. They would prove most difficult, no matter if one was infused with god-like prowess. Flynn had to swallow back a large lump within his throat. His chances were nowhere near slim, but the doubt settling deep in his subconscious was ever so prevalent. After all, he was still human.

“Buddy, start up the BS-HUD, I’ll need the radar workin’ if I’m to end these bastards without any real injuries.” Flynn poked at the side of his visor, signalling to Vega. A small chuckle left his lips, the unfortunate acronym always cheering him up without fail.

“Initialising Battle-Strategy Heads-Up-Display.” An array of bright neon hues began to highlight the transparent visor. Flynn’s ammo count, charge of the equipment, and enemy positions (as well as danger levels) all stacked up neatly at the edge of the transparent material. It seemed almost cartoonish, a childlike video game to stimulate brain activity for development.

“Ahhh the bullshit display, missed ya, ol’ pal.”

Readying his shots, the Doom Slayer moved a weighty leg off of the ledge, and plunged deep into the battle below him. His pulse thrummed an adrenaline fueled melody. Countless zombified UAC personnel screeched under his merciless boot, sounding the alarm to the other soon-to-be victims of the Slayer. They clawed at his legs, back, and head, attempting to get through to the soft, fragile flesh of the human. None prevailed. They had nor the time, nor the chance. Flynn’s instincts violently kicked in, jabbing him into action. He flew like a frenzied hurricane. Ripping each implant out of the modified demons as effortlessly as a gardener plucking rotten weeds, he moved towards the centre of the battlefield. His wrath was to be reckoned with. It was a surprise he was able to perceive the view before him, as the HUD was distraction enough, let alone the bright flashes of various demon blood and blasts of weaponized energy that blanketed his vision. It seemed he was running on pure instinct, his reflexes the driving force of his survival and success.

All forms of gore projectile launched in every direction. He gouged out eyeballs, lacerated limbs, peeled skin and scales. This slaughter was a show of bloody fountain works.

Before he could really begin enjoying this, a slight crackle of static indicating Vega’s frequency fizzing in, began to emanate.

“Flynn, I have urgent news. Dr. Y/N is coming back to Phobos. She is not alone.” Flynn’s mind was participating in gymnastics now, the confusion being a hindrance to his rampage.

“Y/N? I thought I told that lil’ Doctor to stay put,” with each syllable of the sentence, another demon met its miserable end, “how did she override you? The portal is to open or close on my command only.”

“I was ordered by Dr. Samuel Hayden to follow her commands.” A rising tension creeped up. The stress relief was not working. He needed more demons to tear apart.

“Hmph. Wait… did you say she’s not alone?”

“The demon  _ you _ left in the medical-bay came into consciousness. To my surprise, Dr. Y/N and the Marauder, did not have a violent confrontation. They instead came to an understanding. It seems they are attempting to reach you, at this very moment.” There was an accusatory hue colouring Vega’s tone. It was Flynn’s fault after all, his sentimentality getting in the way of logic. Leaving an old, treasured friend inside the Ripatorium would mean to spit on Teivel’s former self. Thus, Flynn had once again let his humanity get in the way.

With gritted teeth, the Doom Slayer moved ahead, mowing down armies of transmogrified humans and unknown alien species. As their numbers fell, he could feel nothing but one emotion, grinding at his mind.

_ Regret. _

Regret of letting anyone get close. Forming friendships, and relationships. Every humanoid being Flynn had bridged an emotional connection to, ended the kinship in disaster. Admittedly, change was bound to happen, breaking apart and reforming these bonds was a natural order of sentience. Yet the pain of betrayal was a difficult wound to heal. A constant, deep lesion that seems to never fully mend.

Two of the most meaningful beings in his long, arduous life, were traitors.

Liars.

Teivel’s abrupt turn to the Sentinel overlords was a devastating betrayal. His transformation, the last straw in their fragile companionship. Flynn had disagreed on many subjects with Teivel, his brother-in-arms being the more instinct driven man. Though their joint hardships forced them into an unlikely bond. They were inseparable, two argent energy wielding hurricanes, sweeping all evil in their path. The very saying ‘opposites attract’ was the entire basis for their friendship.

And yet, it was all over. Two differing opinions, and a flick of the switch on the Divinity machine, and their story was over.

Y/N was simply a hindrance. Her reveal of immeasurable power after the argent sweep being an unwelcome revelation. The perplexion Flynn possessed when her sorcery incinerated the hellish creatures quickly formed into hatred and realisation. Her fragile frame coursed with argent energy, the same energy that demons drew from the well. Was she aware of her abilities? Or was this simply a side effect of the argent sweep? 

Moments of thought passed, the battlefield now empty of all living creatures. A grisly view, multitudes of corpses littering the surface of each platform before the entrance to the BFG 10000. Flynn kicked the bodies out of the way, occasionally stepping on a skull to hear a sickening crunch of bone beneath his boot.

“So, Richardson here?” Reloading his heavy cannon, he clicked a missile mod onto the muzzle, in hopes to eviscerate and bombard any movement in his sights.

“Her energy signature indicates she is within the final chamber. Waiting. Be careful, Flynn.” Vega’s reassuring voice helped guide Flynn to his objective. His enthusiasm to get some payback for murdering so many, turning these innocent beings into a malevolent horde, was rising like a tempestuous storm.

_ Richardson will die here. I will make sure of it. _

…

“Why did you decide to come help me? Won’t your masters be upset?” More out of curiosity than paranoia, you questioned the hellified Sentinel beside you. His comically large horns seemed to weigh down his head, creating an illusion of poor posture. The cybernetic implant that adorned his left eye was glowing a dull cardinal hue, flickering as though it was glitching in and out of sleep. To your understanding, Teivel was tired. Exhausted even. From the tales he narrated, his life, as well as unlife, was an excruciatingly eventful timeline. The countless battles he’s fought, the numerous life-threatening situations he’s slipped away from unscaithed, had all wowed you into amazement. You were even more curious, as you had contact with the Marauder before. Though admittedly, it was less than pleasant. The multitudes of experiments performed on this hardy creature was bound to cause hatred between the two of you. Yet that was not the case. Your display, and his sudden submission, created a strange, as well as quick, bond.

Teivel’s heavy head turned to you, his shoulders tensing from the movement. The question agitated the Sentinel. His claws laced around the hilt of his axe, attempting to find comfort in protection.

“I follow only the strongest.” This cryptic answer was not satisfactory, but that was all you could ask for now. In hopes he would reveal more as the two of you would become further acquainted, you huffed a defeated sigh.

“It is part of Argenta culture. Our monarchy is based upon strength. Thus I follow only the strongest.” In retaliation, he heard your sigh, and further explained what he meant. It came as a surprise to you, as his perceptiveness of your body language was equal to, if not better than, Flynn’s. You continued to nod, humming an understanding exhale.

“ _ I see _ . You think I am worthy? Will I become  _ unworthy _ if you find someone stronger?” You recognised that this jab at his logic won’t go unnoticed. Teivel’s lanky fingers further coiled around the hilt of his argent weapon. With his grip tightening, you wondered if you overstepped the boundary.

“What is it with these incessant questions?” The Marauder’s voice was bordering on a warcry, a tumultuous growl deep in his chest. Though the furrow of his brow and the tone of his voice was indication of annoyance, his expression softened mere seconds later.

“I… apologise. Let me reiterate,” pausing to a halt, the both of you standing amongst countless dead demons, Teivel towered over you, “I have made many mistakes during my existence. Many of those mistakes include treachery. I wish to rectify that. My original opinions and actions landed me in unsavoury circumstances. My dearest friend was the first to fall to my deception. I wish to atone.” The soft silence surrounding you seemed to grow less tense. Your curiosity turned into understanding, your small fingers reaching for the Sentinel’s forearm. You could swear his skin turned clammy at the contact, though you weren’t sure if it was from his honesty or your touch.

So it seemed he was not interested in double-crossing you. The strain coiled around your stomach released its locks, forcing you to smile up at Teivel.

“Let us move on. The Slayer must be close.” With an accented intonation, his grunting voice sent vibrations through your arm. You let go on instinct.

Shuffling forwards, the both of you held on to your weapons. It seemed the view around you was nothing but splatters of entrails and disembodied corpses. It was a grisly sight, one that no cliche horror movie can reconstruct. The sheer power Flynn possessed over his rampage was horrifying. No creature can survive a confrontation with the man. Flynn was no mere human. It hit you, at that very moment, that Flynn had no right to react the way he did. You were no simple human, just the same as the Slayer. And yet, his shock as well as revulsion at your powers was simply unwarranted. No questions asked, he rejected you.

The sting you felt ran its course through your shoulders and your back, forcing you to suddenly slump and tense at the same time.

The Marauder beside you took no notice of your abrupt change in demeanour. His attention was instead drawn to the numerous piles of hellified creatures blocking the doorway. With a leisurely sweep of his leg, the corpses flew to your side, landing behind you in a nauseating thump.

“He went this way. Check your helmet, we’re going outside.” Teivel stated, matter-of-factly, that you would not survive in an environment with little to no atmosphere. He, on the other hand, was a demon, and had no need for oxygen. Hell, he could survive a vacuum for hours, as argent energy would restore and keep his nervous system from boiling his blood from the inside.

You nodded at the towering Sentinel, pressing small buttons on the side of your Elite guard visor. A feminine voice began to resonate, notifying you of your oxygen content, carbon dioxide production, blood pressure, and beats per minute. With each second you got closer to the pressurised chamber leading to the outside platforms, your BPM began to rise at an exponential rate.

You always hated space walks, as well as going outside of the designated safe zone. A number of things could go wrong when wearing a suit. After all, this gear was made by humans. No human is ever made perfect, in turn giving life to faulty creations.

_ We all lead a flawed existence. Lets pray this won’t be my last day alive, huh? _

Knowing eyes, though deep-set in their sockets and piercing a scarlet mark into your being, scanned you over. Teivel’s understanding of the human condition was a strange thing to behold. Perhaps you misjudged him, seeing him as merely a demon to be tested and tortured through your scientific methods. You made a mental note to apologise to him later. This was no place or time to make amends.

With a slight nod, and an approving grunt, Teivel’s clawed hand bashed at the comically large, red button beside the door. Countless objects began to get sucked to the exit, pulled in by an invisible singularity. You could swear that if you were not wearing this heavy suit of protective gear, you’d be flying alongside those objects into the inky emptiness outside. The man beside you, however, made no indication of inching in any direction.

A magnificent vista of human engineering and demonic hybridisation stood proudly before you. You took a deep breath, taking in the impeccable genius it took to create this beauty.

The BFG 10000, the crowning achievement, a creation that you are proud to have taken part in. Though your part was small, merely harvesting data from demons and their use of argent, including their reaction to modified forms of said energy, you still took pride in that part’s existence. This was one of the few good things you could safely exclaim to others around you.

“Let us proceed. The Slayer has moved on farther than I expected.” Noticing your pause to view the weapon platform, Teivel nudged your shoulder, waking you out of your thoughts.

You moved forward, surrounded by mangled demons you could scarcely recognise. Their bodies were torn apart, Flynn being a feral herd of wolves, tearing all in their path. You could tell he was still agitated. He was upset at your confrontation.

These corpses seemed to know no peace, as Teivel haphazardly crunched their sickly bones under his heavy step. You, however, tried to carefully skirt around the numerous chunks of bodies littered beneath you.

“Can you… can you not? It's making me queasy. Please?” You finally snapped under the constant nauseating cracks of skeletal structures. His sudden pause caused you to clench your fists in fear of his annoyance. Teivel simply turned his horned frame, and nodded in compliance, resuming towards your objective more carefully.

“I have to remind myself you are still no mere demon. Forgive me. Mercy and compassion are not a part of our daily lives.” Once again, his understanding astounded you. It was either your lightheadedness at the current situation, or you severely underestimated him.

“Thank you.” A tiny phrase of gratitude was all you could muster, your breath hitching at the words.

As you inched through the platform, you reached a small opening adorned in demon intestines, strung up like garland on a Christmas tree. It seems like Flynn has been busy, taking out every sliver of rage on these poor bastards. You moved carefully through, Teivel leading in front, just in case of any leftover threats. His abrupt pause and turn of a heavy head indicated attentive listening.

“You hear that? A fight. We must be close.”

You attempted to listen in, following Teivel’s head movement.

Nothing.

You mustered a shrug, tagging along behind him. Though his voice was nonchalant, his movements became spasmodic, his walk turning into a sprint. You struggled to follow along, though the armour helped relieve the pressure of aching thighs and calves.

“What did you hear that I didn’t? Teivel?” No answer came, his sprint turning even more desperate and erratic. His demeanour turned from cool and collected, to someone running for their dear life; Running for  _ someone else’s  _ dear life.

You suddenly understood his desperation, as the cacophonous sounds you heard were not of a winning battle. Two voices were the most prominent. Flynn’s suffering moans, and Richardson’s feral laughter. Your heart sank. With every fibre of your being, you pushed your limbs to their limits, attempting to reach your… friend.

You had to save him, tell him all you felt. If this was your last day in this universe, then so be it, as long as he was safe and sound. Slamming through numerous doors, your fingertips began to itch with a familiar sensation. A crawling tempest beneath your flesh. The essence of vengefulness oozing from every pore on your body, your surroundings began to burn. A trail of flame followed your desperate steps.

It seemed as though your vision was blurred from the welled up tears that threatened to escape, the thought of never seeing Flynn purging all happiness from your body. Your demonic companion barged through the last door leading to the source of these pained screams. A coil wrapped itself around your throat, the view before you forcing your inferno to burn brighter than before.

…

Multiple fractures spread along his bones, cracking and tearing at the sheer force of a mysterious power. A searing agony was the only sensation his mind could convey. Mere seconds ago, Flynn’s victory was inevitable, holding Elena Richardson’s throat with a vice-like grip, crushing her trachea in the process. Now, he was at her mercy, borderline begging for the pain to end one way or another.

Richardson’s fingers were laced with a strange violet hue, manipulating his skeletal structure with a vile intent. This energy was unlike anything he has ever seen or experienced. The gentle glimmering appearance of this power was a cruel mask for its true tormenting potential. No matter how hard he tried to break from the crushing prison, he mustered no strength to retaliate. His suffering was too great to fight back.

A strange heat began to emanate behind him, warm hues lighting his vision through shut eyes, like tilting your head up to a warm July sun to catching amber rays with your skin. It felt like hope, such a sensation becoming more scarce by the second. That hope was accompanied by a voice he was surprised he was glad to hear.  _ Her _ voice.

He wanted to fight back, he wanted to help. But to no avail.

There was another force, a familiar warcry. It reverberated within the metallic chamber, a voice that once again surprised him, fighting beside Y/N. Though help arrived, his body was still on the brink of defeat. Flynn couldn’t hold on much longer, his bones crumbling and flesh tearing into a pulpy mess. On his knees, his life was at Richardson’s mercy.

An ugly battle continued, Richardson’s violet glimmer bouncing around Flynn’s limbs, whilst the demons around held back his two… friends. Blood rushed down the room, both the demons’ and his own. It painted a morbid trail, the reality of his predicament hitting him hard. Teivel’s serpentine hisses at their foes, and Y/N’s crazed cry as her summoned flames licked at his torturer’s body was the only sound keeping him afloat. The Slayer’s fists clenched. He felt so weak, so small. He got careless, his anger and callousness getting in the way of logical thinking. He wanted nothing but to get rid of these pesky feelings. With all these emotions welling up, the one thing he wanted now was to hold her close, tell her he's sorry. Tell her that he overreacted and that she was the most important being in his miserable life.

Moments of agony began turning into blackness, a shrouded blanket encompassing his vision, lulling him to sleep. Two arms enveloped him, pleading for his survival. He heard but a small voice, defeated, desperate, and gentle. He never imagined this tender end, being held so close to the one he wished to forgive, and to _ ask forgiveness of _ . Flynn’s final thoughts were of his past, and his lost future. Of what was, and what was never to come. With benevolent caresses at his cheek as he drifted off into a forced slumber, he felt a wetness drop onto his brow, alongside a delicate touch of skin, lips flush against his forehead.

His voice uttered a name before the drift, a lethargic, and low mumble. It was her name, the mention of it bringing an indescribable tranquility, like laying in a field of daisies.

_ Y/N… _


	13. Spiritualism

Your arms quivered. It was a desperate and regretful vibration passing through your limbs. Flynn looked peaceful, his breathing slow, albeit shallow. With a gentle impulse, your face inched above his, observing the movement and flutter of his lashes. You lowered your lips to his forehead, pressing a tender kiss to his clammy skin. His body had endured too much. Though you knew he would recover quickly, the sound of his agony laced groans betrayed a bitter doubtfulness to crawl up.

"Y/N…" Through parted lips, his almost silent utterance of your name paused all doubt in your head. Flynn's voice was a warm and husky sound, like honey sweetening bitter tea. Its sound let a warmth spread through your chest. You knew then, that all was going to be ok.

"We made it in time. I'm here, Flynn." You hadn't expected your own voice to tremble, becoming uncomfortably aware of how upset his pain had made you. Seeing someone so powerful and nonchalant about countless battles, reduced to such a pitiful, small creature, made your throat close up.

"He will recover. I've witnessed worse injuries befall him.” Teivel’s shoulders tensed, his stoic demeanour breaking a fraction in the presence of his injured brother-in-arms. Though his statement was meant to comfort you, the thought of agony more severe than what you witnessed on Flynn made your blood boil. Your head hung pathetically over the slumbering man, watching his every breath, looking for signs of consciousness. You wanted to weep.

The Sentinel behind you shifted uncomfortably, his metallic clang of a heavy boot resounding within the gore ridden room. It was so incredibly still inside the sector; You were able to make out the hum of the Marauder’s cybernetic implants, a low and dull pulse of argent flowing within his gargantuan form. The metallic boots inched closer with each unsure step. You were able to feel his demonic presence, the heat radiating onto your back.

“Aesh dok vesek.” Teivel’s fingers pressed to Flynn’s chest, the scarlet light on the Slayer’s armour glowing slightly more dull than the usual blinding shimmer. The heartfelt words the Marauder uttered reflected a familiar scenario. Your memory jumped to the medical bay, Flynn’s shoulders slumped over his hellified comrade. Was Teivel grieving? Mourning a man who was still alive? You couldn’t help but stare at the Doom Slayer in your arms.

“Y/N. We must get him to safety.” You wanted to agree, however your voice could not utter a single sound.

A shimmering light began to faintly pulsate on the visor beside Flynn, noting that the helmet had slunked off during his struggle. Both you and Teivel watched the blue glimmer, deciding if it was important to answer its call.

“Dr. Y/N. Flynn is unstable. You must transport him back to the fortress.” Vega’s more than usual worried tone shook you back to reality. You could hear Vega on the helmet, his small yet resonating voice beckoning for an answer. The slight sliver of crystal clear control in your system seemed to kickstart, your ability to process information like a true scientist becoming evident. Your inner leader was at the forefront of this battle.

“Teivel. Pick him up, we need him at the medical bay ASAP.” You flinched at your own tone. The resemblance to Hayden’s cold, and brash intonation was clear evidence of who your tutor in life was. Shaking off any remnants of the unexpected dictator-like thinking, you smiled pleadingly at the hellified sentinel, giving way so he could pick the Doom Slayer up.

It was a strange sight, a gargantuan man double your size, being flung over someone else’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The display would’ve made you chortle if not for the scene you witnessed a few minutes ago. You grabbed the visor that lay alongside you, and continued beside the sentinel. With each step, your heartbeat seemed to calm, leaving the brutal battle scene behind you, to get Flynn to safety.

“Vega, open a portal, we’re ready.” You ordered the trusted A.I., once again using the commanding tone you adopted from Hayden.

A cerulean phosphorescent glow began to emanate from the centre of the corridor, making you exhale a relieved sigh. Barely able to contain your desperation, the three of you practically flew through the portal, only to proceed to the medical bay. The frantic steps that echoed in the hallways of the fortress seemed to be overshadowed by Flynn’s shallow breathing. You watched as his peaceful, scarred skin rippled as a result of restless dreams. A nightmare, perhaps? Or was this the consequence of the strange violet energy that flowed from your ex-right hand of the ARC?

Reaching the med-bay, Teivel helped you strip Flynn’s beaten armour. The olive hues of the metal were now coated in scarlet and indigo colours, countless demon claw imprints, and argent powered weapon scuff marks. You gasped at the damage he sustained. Mauve and lavender danced along the Slayer’s skin, bruises rewarded from Richardson’s magic. It was a grizzly sight, your fingers trailing along his cold sweat slicked skin. Even the overgrown hair became partitioned on his forehead, sticking from the buckets he was sweating.

With a gentle palm, you brushed the wet hair aside, revealing tan flesh beneath the curtain of locks.

Teivel nodded in your direction, placing an understanding clawed palm on your shoulder, waking you out of your pondering thoughts. You nodded in return, letting the sentinel place Flynn’s limp body into the pod.

“I must return. Scout out the surrounding area so that we may proceed with the mission,” the Marauder turned to you, his neon red eyes sparkling with a renewed purpose, “make sure there were no… survivors.”

You simply nodded, the fire within you burning ever brighter. As Teivel moved past you, his heavy steps resounding behind closed doors, you turned back to the peacefully laying man.

You watched as the tiny gunmetal clouds of nano-machines worked their magic, sealing wounds, and healing bruises at an alarming rate. It would take mere minutes for his surface recovery, however the full trauma will take weeks. Perhaps even months. Even a God could not escape unscaithed from something like this. Watching him beneath the glass, your palm and face nearly flush against the surface, your eyes slowly fluttered shut, the exhaustion finally settling in. You were tired mentally more so than physically. Seeing your friend break and tear at Richardson’s grasp was an excruciating display. Yet here you were, your timely arrival saving the Slayer’s life. It seems you have repaid your debt.

Your breaths became slow and methodical, as the warmth of your skin seeped onto the glass, letting you drift away into a comfortable darkness.

…

The hellified sentinel’s proud steps echoed along the corridor, returning to the battle scene where Flynn was the closest he’s ever been to an inevitable end. Multitudes of blue and scarlet hues were splattered haphazardly on the surfaces, every step Teivel took muddying these demonic colours together. He’s seen death like this before. Hell, he was the cause of much demise within the universe and this endless battle for Maykr regime. However, watching it occur from the sidelines, being a fighting force from a different perspective, gave him much pause. Has he made a mistake siding with the Doom Slayer and his… What was she? Concubine?

The demon shook his head, prying these disrespectful thoughts away from his mind. She was powerful, and more capable of leadership than any Maykr or Sentinel he had the displeasure of serving. The idea that she was a demon herself did perplex him, however. Archviles and humans cannot procreate, and the only form of hybridisation would occur synthetically. The divinity machine? Teivel was one such product, a sentinel with immense demonic power; a hybrid.

He twirled his claws, observing the tendons and violet shades that danced along the calloused skin. Teivel would never return to normality. His state is one of perpetual temptation for dominance. For power. For the cunning force of evil. His very appearance reflected that. With argent running through his veins as naturally as blood, it's this very notion of hybridisation that would haunt him. No matter how hard he tried to change, to return to the stormy eyed youth that made a very unlikely companionship all those decades ago, he will always be a  _ hellified  _ sentinel. His soul would scream that title to the very ends of the universe. Was it too late to turn back? Was this attempt at redemption a futile one?

With these intrusive thoughts in mind, the Marauder continued forth to the battle scene. Moving swiftly through the doors, a low hiss of working technology awoke him from his thoughts. The fight he was a part of moments ago seemed like a past age. The frenzied state he tended to enter once in danger was a useful ability, yet very impractical for tactical battlefield analysis. He scanned the environment, blood and guts strewn across the surface.

An abhorrent sense of dread crept up his spine.

Her body was missing. The traitorous scientist, Richardson, seemed to slip away with her life barely clutched at her fingertips. Moments more, and her body would’ve slumped like a pathetic, lifeless bag of bones before the victors. However, that was not the case. A low, rumbling scoff escaped Teivel. It was not often he felt anger. Yet when he did, and his grasp of self control loosened, pray to any deity out there that your hide was safe from this menace.

Almost five minutes had passed, Teivel clutching at his axe with clawed fingers, before a sizzle of static awakened him. It seemed to emit from a nearby corpse of a former UAC scientist, his skull crushed into a pulpy mess. Teivel approached the eerie static with hesitant steps. It was a pitiful sight, an otherworldly mass of leftover organs strewn across the tiles was all that was left of the unfortunate victim. Teivel had to rummage through this concoction of gore to find the source of the static, a receiver attempting to find a frequency. With his skeletal fingers now coated in blood, the sentinel let out a repulsed huff and brought the receiver to his face. He examined the small, silver cuboid. The technology was not familiar to him, his knowledge of human inventions stemming from only one man.

Undoubtedly, Teivel was perplexed as to what this object’s purpose was. It was covered in buttons, strange human lettering, and kept letting out sizzles of static every few seconds. With an unrivaled curiosity, he brought the receiver to his ear, before it let out an almost deafening screech of cacophonous noise. Tossing the devilish noise machine aside, the hellified sentinel practically bounced into a defensive stance with a startled expression.

Moments of tense silence passed. This strange standoff between the sentinel and the cuboid carried on for what seemed like an eternity, until the human technology began to emit a low, familiar rumble of a voice.

Lowering his defenses, Teivel approached the receiver once more. He cupped the object, carefully inspecting any damage. It began to speak.

“Teivel. My crowning achievement. You were our most promising student, and a potential King amongst our ranks. Tell me… Why turn traitor?” This grumpy tone belonged to the final hell priest, the one remaining target, and the cause of Earth’s invasion; Daeg Grav.

Teivel scowled, letting out a long, drawling sigh.

“I follow only the strongest.” He reluctantly replied, repeating the words that were uttered to Y/N. He wondered if the conversation was worth the effort, no matter how deep the seed of doubt was taking root.

“You follow the currently winning side? Cowardly.” Daeg Grav kicked a snide remark in Teivel’s direction, inevitably earning him another angry grumble from the Marauder.

“So you admit, Grav. You are losing.” Teivel clicked his tongue, licking his teeth in the process.

“Hold your tongue, fool. The tide of battle is an easy one to sway against mortals. We have forces scouring, hunting, and leeching any, and all surviving pests that reside on Earth. The Maykr rule is absolute. You will obey.” This seemed to resonate with Teivel. Grav hit right where it hurts. Teivel’s grasp of the receiver was becoming a deathly grip, letting his claws scratch at the surface of the metal.

“Tough words for someone so weak. Even now, you cower on Sentinel Prime, waiting for your certain demise.”

“Do not talk down at me,  _ boy _ . I brought you up from that primordial muck you call home. Without me, you are nothing. You will comply.” With each word that rolled off the priest’s foul tongue, the sentinel’s grasp of his cool, controlled centre was becoming a molten core.

“Keep talking,  _ karok _ . We will meet again soon, however the circumstances shall dictate that your skull will land beneath my boot.  _ Kalar dok vexu’um _ .”

With this venomous spitting of treacherous words, Teivel crushed the receiver with his claws, letting the metallic contraption fall between the cracks of his fingers.

He watched the pieces tumble and land. He watched his final decision, his moral choice, make its final stand.

Teivel will not let his friend's homeland fall, like his own did all those years ago. The same mistake will not be repeated, the sentinel's heart filling with pure pride at his decision.

He will stand on the Doom Slayer’s side. On humanity’s side. On Earth's side.

…

“Y/N? Hun’?” A comforting, honeyed voice forced you to awaken from a dreamless rest. Your lashes hung like curtains, drawing them open seeming more difficult than before. With great effort, the glass beneath your cheek beckoning you to stay, you pushed your forearms away from the surface to see a warm smile and acidic hazel eyes observing your tired form. It took some time for you to recuperate, and to gather your surroundings, before remembering your situation.

“Flynn? You’re awake!” You practically squealed from excitement and joy, flinging the glass pod open to fly into the man’s embrace. Undoubtedly, he returned the grasp, cradling the back of your head like it was the last embrace he’d ever receive. His fingers became entwined in your hair, keeping his other hand on your spine, as his thumb ran delicate circles along the small of your back. You nestled your face into the crook of his neck. Cherishing the woody scent that came along with his velvety skin, you kissed his bruised collarbone.

The both of you held each other, exchanging body heat like no mere friends could.

He forgave you. This much you understood. The relief and admiration for the being in your arms spreading through your chest like the rays of a dawning sun. Though you knew your philophobia was not to be rivaled with, there was one man, and one man only, that could beat that fear to a pulp.

“I’m so glad you’re safe, hun’.” The husky rumble from his chest vibrated through your own, feeling as though the embrace was melding your bodies together. Flynn could barely lift his heavy head from your shoulder. His exhaustion was almost paralyzing, however his wish to gaze at your face was overwhelming any other desires.

“How are you feeling?” You asked plainly out of courtesy. Seeing his hesitant movements, and the slight grimace with every prod at his skin, you realised that his internal healing will take some time. However, the warm expression upon his face said more than words ever could. Flynn was going to be okay, whether he was gravely injured, or completely healed, as long as  _ you _ were by his side.

Without an answer, his eyes trailed across your eyes, your nose, your lips. He observed every inch and fiber of your being. The tender glinting in his irises was the only answer you needed to your question. Admittedly, Flynn’s touch startled you, his calloused fingers travelling miles on your cheek. The initial shock was replaced by the sheer adoration for the man, your head leaning into his touch. Each caress was charging the static filled air. Your sensitive skin yearned for the touch of satin lips.

“Better now.” A small smirk spread across Flynn’s visage.

“Good. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for…” Your trailing words were overshadowed by uncertainty.

_ What is it I’m apologising for? My only fault was being what I am. A… demon? _

The heavy gulp that resounded within the medical bay was the only noise between you and Flynn. Although you never finished your apology, the Doom Slayer before you placed a tentative thumb against your bottom lip, shutting your thoughts out. His free fingers continued to entangle in your hair, soothing any and all building demonic anger.

“It's not your place to apologise. You never did anything wrong. I shut you out. And for that, I’m sorry.” He continued to rub circles on your cheek, keeping piercing eye contact between the two of you, “Hell, you saved my ass! I owe you one, hun’.” The benevolent yet bittersweet smile that stretched across your lips shattered any doubt in your mind. Forgiveness was a word you were familiar with, however its meaning and utterance was a difficult one to grasp, especially when it came to your upbringing. Since the day of your first memory, your parental figure, Samuel Hayden, taught you that one such as yourself must never seek forgiveness. Between life and death, whatever your decision, know that it was the right one. However, when the embrace of the one you so dearly admire grips you with his gentle yet assertive arms, you could not help but throw these teachings away. Forgiveness is vital. Mistakes are made on a daily basis. Who are we to deny that humanity is flawed? To forget that without forgiveness, one is but a blubbering fool, stumbling through the dark, denying understanding and learning?

And here Flynn was. Forgiving, forgetting, and asking you for forgiveness himself. The countless times he's brushed aside your snide remarks, your ungrateful actions, he's never asked for an apology. It was such a simple gesture, yet it melted all of your defenses and barriers you held up for so long.

You knew what must be done, in order to fill the ever expanding void in your soul. You had to tell him...

You loved him.

If this was simply a rose tinted fog that blanketed your common sense, or it was actually clarity of the situation, you gave not a single damn. Because you finally figured it out.

You  _ loved  _ him.

Continuing to smile at the man, the proximity of your faces caused your noses to brush together. The smell of woody aromas overwhelmed your senses, the world around seemingly crumbling in turn to focus only on the scarred, attentive face before you.

“If that’s the case, more than one, cowboy.” Chuckling at his new nickname, Flynn’s fingers left your hair, instead shifting to your chin, gently cradling the skin to bump your foreheads together. Seconds passed, moments of affectionate tenderness seeping into your beings. You hadn’t even noticed as his flushed complexion matched your own reddened cheeks.

“Cowboy, huh? I like it.” His smirk slowly shrunk, the tension between you growing like the charge in the air before a thunderstorm. As time slowed to an almost complete stop, your lips collided, a satin sensation of supple flesh. It was tender at first, testing the waters of this new sensation, stealing kisses with each hesitant bump. Flynn's fingers continued to cradle your chin, guiding you through the kiss. Moments of the slow breathy exchange turned into a desperate heat. Your hands travelled to his neck to support yourself against this dizzying force. The feeling of his drumming heart pressed against your chest made a thunderous vibration pass through your core, the butterflies in your stomach dancing to an almost animalistic melody. With each caress of your lips against one another, your mewls became louder and more passionate. The charge was overwhelming. His arms coiled around your waist to keep you both from toppling over into the pod.

The relief of finally expressing your feelings, the action itself forcing your minds to meld into one amorous energy, made you melt into his touch. Never had you anticipated that this man would become the centre of your universe. The centre of all you admired, all you looked up to. All those days ago, the weeks of fear, and hesitation, your view of the universe was turned upside down. From the display of a towering demon-destroying machine approaching you in the ARC Headquarters, to you finally falling into his gentle, magnetic embrace. It was perplexing how the world worked. However for once in this galaxy, you wanted to thank lady luck and fate that led you on this path, no matter how tumultuous the journey may have been.

You continued to grip tightly against his neck, pulling him ever closer into the kiss. Flynn returned the gesture, pulling away only to catch his breath every so often. As you both slowed the passionate exchange to mere curious pecks, your hearts continued to hammer as one singular drum.

"Damn…" Flynn's glinting eyes scanned you over, his breathing uneven and ragged. He brushed a single stray lock away from your cheek, his calloused fingertips softly stroking at the flushed skin.

"What?" You ended up smiling like a dork at the affectionate display.

"You're breathtaking." As these words flowed, a sly smirk formed on the man's visage. You could barely hold a chuckle.

"Was that a- was that a pun?!" You gently slapped at his cheek, a playful atmosphere forming in the air. Inching your face closer to the scar across his nose bridge, you placed your swollen lips upon the mark, flowing your ardent adoration into the kiss. He simply closed his eyes to enjoy this blissful moment.

"Ahem." The foreign voice gave the both of you whiplash, forcing the lovers' embrace to cease as you jumped to your feet. That voice originated from the one and only, hellified sentinel, Teivel. He stood barely entering the medical bay, his horns centimetres away from hitting the doorway. Undoubtedly, he witnessed everything, as you blocked any input from outside sources to lovingly focus on Flynn.

"Teivel! Hi! We were just-" An awkward silence ensued. The cogs and gears in your head seemed to rust over, unable to form a coherent excuse for your proximity to Flynn.

"She was checking my pulse, is all. Right, hun'?" Unfortunately, the Doom Slayer jumped in with a somewhat poor reason, his face becoming even redder than what you thought was possible. If you had a mirror with you, you'd see the same burning complexion on yourself.

"Yeah. All is in order. He's healthy." Teivel didn't seem to buy your comment. Tapping his boot, the resounding noise of a metallic clang on med-bay tiles caused the room to shake. The awkward tension could almost be visible in the thick air.

"Urgh…" Sick of the silent display, the Marauder turned on his heel to leave as quickly as he appeared. You could almost hear the chattering of his teeth as he escaped the vicinity, most likely a tick of annoyance.

The disruption seemed to sober the both of you up from the intoxicating entanglement of your beings.

"Well, well. That was definitely  _ something _ . Think he bought it?" Flynn turned to you, his vibrant eyes glazing over with a dreamy haze once more.

"Yeaaaah, definitely. We're good actors." Raising your arm up, you mouthed ' _ high five _ ', making Flynn land a solid slap to your palm. Instead of letting go however, he pulled you in, landing both of you inside the icy interior of the pod. A joyous laughter began to resonate through your chest. And the world seemed to melt away, until all your focus was directed on the man you fell in love with...


End file.
